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egoludes · 3 years

Text

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out. You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?”

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer?

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though.

Steve hears about it from Bucky.

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself.

That happens on a Saturday afternoon.

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet.

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred.

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow.

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin.

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back. “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer.

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?”

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way.

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers. So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying.

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs.

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand.

Something tells you this will be a long night.

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes. Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear: ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you.

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed.

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to.

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #tags will come after work!

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cha-lyn · 3 years

Text

A Series of Break Ins

bucky x black female reader

Summary: Someone breaks into your apartment

Warnings: break ins, lil bit of violence, wounds + blood

Words: 1617

A/N: Inspiration from @write-it-motherfuckers ( prompt is in bold somewhere below) :) some wonderful stuff on that blog

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January.

You lived in an old building in a shitty part of town. The loft kind that was once an office or a factory or something. Lots of windows. Terrible heat bill in the winter. You heard gunshots and fighting frequently. It wasn’t your dream home. No, your windows faced a manufacturing building with no windows. From your fire escape, if you stretched really far, you could cross the alley and touch the building. You only did that once though because the fire escape was rickety and not very safe.

That particular night, you were coming home from a mediocre date with a guy named Marcus. Usually you’d take a cab home, but your budget was tight this month. So you weaved through the alleys, the cold and the dark making you more jumpy than usual. You just wanna be home, with your warm fuzzy socks on and a glass of wine.

Your anxiety settles once you make it into your building. You take the steps two a time to your third floor studio. You open your door, shutting it quickly and leaning back against it.

That’s when the hairs on your arm stand up. Your eyes shoot open and your breath catches. Your kitchen light is on. You know it was not on when you left earlier. In your kitchen sits your first aid kit dumped out on the table.

You grab the baseball bat you keep next to the door and check every crevice of your home. Nothing.

You return to the kitchen, hesitantly. Next to the first aid kit is a napkin with a note: Sorry for the intrusion. I’ll replace everything I used. Thanks. - BB

You just looked at the note and blinked. Who the fuck had been in your apartment?!

The next day there’s a package outside your door containing the promised replacements from the stranger. There’s another note: Sorry again. -BB

You’re not quite sure what to do. Call the police? And say what- someone broke in, left no trace and then replaced what they stole? They would think you’re crazy.

February.

After the break in you upped your security. You got a deadbolt, a door chain, and a magnetic sensor on your front door that rang and alerted your phone when set off.

You felt pretty good about your upgrade… until it happened again. You’d come home late from drinks with a friend unlocked the door, then the deadbolt.

The light in your kitchen was on again. You grabbed your bat immediately, ready to swing on whoever was dumb enought to break into your house yet again.

“Whoa, whoa ma’am. Please don’t--” but you did. Whack him that is. Three times. And then a black gloved hand stopped your swings dead and blue eyes lock with yours.

“Holy fucking shit. B. B! It was you. Fucking Bucky Barnes broke into my house!”

He nods and watches your face as it goes from rage to confusion and then back to rage. You let go of the bat and he puts it behind him. “Look, I am really sorry. I know this is probably terrifying--”

“Yeah ‘cause I thought you were a god damn serial killer--not an Avenger!” You plop down onto a kitchen chair.

Bucky stared at you amused. “This is not how I thought this would go…”

“Don’t you have some Avenger place you can go and get fixed up? Instead of breaking into civilian households?” you sigh irritatedly.

“No. For one I’m not an Avenger…. And uh, two… I got hurt doing something not necessarily sanctioned by the government.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling bashfully.

“My god, you’re doing vigilante shit,” you breathed out a laugh.

Bucky shrugged, “You could call it that.” He wrung his gloved hands together. “I should go… I’ll send you replacements for the stuff I used. ”

“Or you could just not break into my house.” Bucky chuckled, before climbing out the window. “You could use the door!’

The man has the audacity to laugh as he closes your window, “Thanks again, doll.”

You let out a groan, wondering why on earth he chose your apartment and why on earth you weren’t more pissed off about it.

March

You’re dead asleep when you hear a thud on the fire escape outside your window. Your heart thuds like a bass drum as scenarios of you being murdered flash through your head. A stabbing. A shooting. God, please not a strangling. Then there’s a persistent tapping. You pretend to still be asleep, holding your breath and not moving.

“I know you're awake. I need to .. uh utilize your first aid kit again. Please, doll.”

Relief hits you like a wave and you flick the light on and get out of bed. You open the window and Sergeant Barnes slips through the space, holding his flesh arm, but not really effectively stopping the blood.

The two of you stand there for a second, until you remember that you don’t sleep with pants on and awkwardly move around him to find a pair of shorts. You find him sitting at your kitchen table again, waiting for you to get the first aid kit, like he doesn’t have a goddamn metal arm on him.

“For fuck’s sake…” You pull it out from under the sink and set it in front of him with a thud. Bucky smirks sheepishly. “Did you get shot again?” you ask after a while. He nods once as he gets to work. “Aren’t you like... super?” He nods. “Won't it heal super fast?” He nodded once again. “So what’s the point of the first aid kit?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he sighs irritatedly.

You narrow your eyes, “Oh dear, am I inconveniencing you?”

He stops and looks up at you through his dark lashes. “Sorry. I’m being rude. What's your name anyway?”

You roll your eyes, but you tell him.

He cleans after himself and then stands. “Thank you again. Y/n.”

You ignore the lil shiver you get when he says your name, “Is this gonna be a regular thing Sargeant?”

Bucky flashed you a charming smile, “Do you want it to be, doll?”

You cross your arms and set you glare, “You have five seconds before I get my bat.”

Bucky let out a very boyish laugh before dramatically making his exit via the window again.

Over the next few days, you consider getting locks for the windows, but for some reason you just don’t.

Two weeks later, you open your door, arms full of groceries, and find Bucky sitting on the floor of your kitchen once more, first aid kit open in front of him. You’re not even surprised really.

“Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You scoff, “Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!” You toss your purse on the couch.

Bucky laughs and the winces and groans. It’s then that you realize he’s very pale in the face and his flesh hand isn’t gloved it’s just dark with blood.

You drop the groceries roughly on the table, “Shit Bucky. Are you-- You’re bleeding a lot!”

“I’m fine, doll.”

“I don’t think you are….” You panic, reaching for your phone, but remembering it’s deep in your purse across the room.

“You gotta-- you’re gonna have to sew it up, okay?”

“Let me just call an ambulance,” you get up to get your phone, but he grabs your wrist firmly.

“No. You can do this Y/n. I’ll walk you through it.” Something in his blue eyes assures you. You nod and Bucky has you cut his shirt off before he leads you through the cleaning of his wound. Your face felt hot at the sight of his beautiful broad chest, despite the mess around you. Bucky guided you, wincing and jaw ticking as you closed up his wound. By the end, your hands are red and sticky and you’re quite nauseous, but you didn’t care. The color was already back in his face and the sparkle back in his blue eyes. “You did good, doll.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” you say breathily. Bucky smiled fondly at you. You get up, wash your hands thoroughly and gently help Bucky up and to your couch. “You want something to eat? Let me get you some water.” You don’t wait for an answer before going to the kitchen. You bring him a bottle of water, a beer, and left over orange chicken from last night’s dinner- he inhaled all three while you cleaned and sanitized your kitchen floor.

“I should head out,” he stood up stiffly, favoring his wounded side. “I’m sorry about all this…” he gestured towards his wound and then to your kitchen. “It won't happen again. I’ll get my own first aid kit.”

You shrug, “You basically bought mine with as much as you use it.” You stick your hand out. “Phone.” Bucky eyes you warily before obeying. “How about next time you need to use my first aid kit, you just call first?”

Bucky smiles a lopsided, goofy smile, as you put your number in. “I think I can do that.”

Three days later, Bucky calls you around 7pm. Thirty minutes later there’s a knock at your door - not your window.

“What’s bleeding now--”

Instead of beat up and bleeding, Bucky stands before you in a black button up with a bouquet of flowers and a bag of take out. “Hey doll. I wanted to really apologize for everything and try to make it up to you,” he gives you a sheepish grin.

You can’t contain your own smile. “Well, orange chicken and flowers are a good start. Come in.”

----

Everything Tag List

@thefridgeismybestie

@basically-introverted

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x black!reader #bucky x poc!reader #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky #bucky drabble

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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rushingheadlong · 3 years

Photo

POP IN THE SUPERMARKET

Conveyer rock - is it all a hype? Colin Irwin looks at pre-packed pop and talks to the men behind new bands Queen (left) and Merlin

Hype. An ugly, unpleasant word frequently recurring in rock circles.

Up in the boardroom of a vast record company the fat cigar brigade are scratching heads. Binn and Batman have come up with another surefire hit and they want somebody fresh to market it. They ponder a few names and finally decide on one with slight but clear sexual connotations - suggestively camp.

Name settled, they work on the people who will be in this new band. They might be able to find a ready-made group to fit the bill but better to mould their own. There's a singer who has been around for a few years.

He's not great but he knows how to throw himself around a stage, has a hairy chest and can hit the high notes. Give him a new name and he'll do. Somebody knows a lead guitarist who can play a bit and looks good. They can advertise for the others.

They'll work out a sensational stage act, rig them up in some flash gear, buy them the best equipment and arrange a string of appearances in some influential venues. Plunge a few thousand quid in launching them with advertising and posters and "They'll be the biggest thing since sliced bread," chief fat cigar tells his underlings.

Session musicians are employed to record the single and being a Binn and Batman special the radio stations label it "chart bound" and play it twenty five times a day. Seeing the glossy photos in the bop mags the kids gather up their pennies and buy it.

VOILA, stars are born - or manufactured. An extreme form of hype.

There's also a cliché commonly used in the business about people who have been around for many years and finally make it. It's called talent-will-out. An idealist phrase but there is still a popular belief that if a band is truly talented enough it will win through in the end.

Yet even the greatest band in the world need a bit of pushing in the first place. When a record becomes a hit it's not always that easy to distinguish between hype and talent-will-out.

If a record company spends astronomical sums of money promoting a band, is it hype? Or is it a legitimate and necessary weapon in the music business? The argument is that the BBC's ever-tightening playlist and the effects on the industry of the three-day week have made it harder than ever for a new group to make it - talent or no. Without a big money machine behind it there isn't a hope.

The situation is illustrated by two energetic new bands, who both look like breaking.

Big money has been spent on Queen and Merlin, who have had new singles released during the last month.

Queen's record, "Seven Seas Of Rhye," is already moving swiftly up the chart, while Merlin's "Let Me Put My Spell On You," is doing well enough to suggest it might follow suit.

There is no suggestion that either band is a manufactured or manipulated product in the sense of the Monkees. They play the music on their own records entirely themselves and they are both hard at work on the road.

Yet the question arises as to whether they would be doing quite so well without the resources of big companies behind them.

In the case of Queen it's Trident Audio Productions and EMI and for Merlin it's Cookaway Productions and CBS.

The one common factor is that money and backing has been provided because the companies have a solid, unshakeable belief in the artists they are promoting. They are indignant about any suggestion of a put-on or that there has been any attempt to con the public.

Listen to Merlin's producer Roger Greenaway for half-an-hour and there is no doubting his faith in their ability. "They are going to break, I know they are. I'm convinced the record will be a hit."

Nobody's saying exactly how much it has cost to launch either band. "Over a period of months between £5,000 and £10,000" has been spent on marketing Queen by EMI while the figure for Merlin is even vaguer. "A bit, but not a vast amount. Not a fortune by any means."

"Seven Seas Of Rhye" is Queen's second single and was recorded as part of the album "Queen 2" which has just been released. Things started to move for them about a year ago when they recorded their first album for Trident, who have a distribution contract with EMI.

An advance was paid to them to help with the immediate costs of putting them on the road.

Review copies of the album - about 400 of them - were sent out to everyone who might conceivably have any influence on the record buying public, from discos to the national press. Copies were personally distributed to radio and TV producers and extensive advertising space was bought in the trade papers.

The launch for Queen was more concentrated than most artist are entitled to expect.

Trident were completely behind them from the start and found them their American producer Jack Nelson. EMI promotions men Ronnie Fowler and John Bagnall decided they had a product with an exceptional chance of success and they went all out to exploit it to the full.

Says Fowler: "Every record we release we work to a pattern of promotion. When I went round with the album it was normal procedure. It becomes un-normal when people start phoning you - that's when you put more effort into it."

Bagnall adds: "It became obvious after a week or so that it wasn't standard promotion that was necessary. We did a more complete promotion job than usual on Queen because we thought they were going to make it.

"They're all good-looking guys and I did a round of teeny papers and all the girls in the office swooned over them. Brian, the lead guitarist, had made his own guitar and a couple of the nationals picked up on that. It was good, gossipy stuff."

Queen's publicity machine was working from all angles because they were also getting external promotion from Tony Brainsby's promotion office.

He had been involved with them from the time they had been trying to get record producers interested. The intensity of it all paid off when they were invited to do a spot on the Old Grey Whistle Test. Radio Luxembourg latched upon the single "Keep Yourself Alive" and played it regularly.

Their first tour, supporting Mott the Hoople, got the full works. Local press was saturated with releases about this new band which was shortly coming to their town, elaborate displays were arranged at the front of the house on the night of the concert, local disc-jockeys were informed, and window displays were made in about 200 local record shops.

"Trident and EMI committed themselves right from the start to this band, to make sure they had a PA which was better than other bands had and to make sure they had the right clothes. Some of their outfits cost £150 each," said Bagnall. "Spending money on a band isn't hype. It wasn't being flash or extravagant for the sake of building an image. It was making sure that everything else was as good as their music."

Not so far removed from the attitude towards Merlin, although it has been on a smaller scale in this case.

The first Merlin tour, still underway, is rigorous. They are playing ballrooms and colleges all over the country on a lengthy round.

An ambitious project for a new, unknown band, but it has already been successful in that it has launched them as a name people now know. A full-page advertisement was bought in the MM. That's the sort of treatment you might get if you're Bowie, or Ferry, or even Mick Ronson. But Merlin?

They have only been in existence in their present form since last May.

They emerged as a result of discussions between Alan Love and Derek Chick about the possibility of forming a band with definite commercial appeal and a glamorous stage act. The idea reached fruition via a band called Madrigal, who had for some time been working the same circuit as Mud before "Crazy" broke for them.

Madrigal disbanded but reformed with the same drummer and bass player, and Love as singer and Chick as manager. A couple more young musicians were found to join them and Chick started the usual hustling to get them going.

In due course they came to the attention of Cookaway, and Roger Greenaway was hastily summoned to take a look at them. He had already seen Madrigal and when he saw the new model he immediately saw a big future for them.

Greenaway says: "I'd been looking for a group of this type for three years - a young under-20s group who can present a good act. There's a lot more showmanship attached to bands now. I wanted an act with a slightly different approach. I was in New York producing the Drifters and I came back especially to hear them."

He quickly took them into a studio to see how they reacted there and among the tracks they recorded was "Let Me Put My Spell On You" which had been written by Greenaway in collaboration with Tony Macaulay. Like Queen, the best equipment and some fancy costumes were bought for them and the launching process was put into operation.

My own experience of the Merlin project was a couple of weeks ago at Reading Top Rank - a bizarre mixture of precocious boppers, ageing teds, and stern-looking heavies.

Posters and pictures of the group were plastered all over the place and by the time they eventually appeared late in the evening you had been informed quite thoroughly that Merlin had made a record called "Let Me Put My Spell On You."

Greenaway says of Love: "He's got star quality and he's a great charmer. The guitar player Jamie Moses has got a terrific potential too. I've worked with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones but for me this guy at 18 is a better player than Jimmy Page was at the same age. He's the sort of player guys can follow - like Jet Harris - he had an incredible following with the guys."

He likens the Merlin launch to a military operation. The career of the group has been minutely planned since October. Accepting that it is almost impossible to get airplay for a new band on the BBC they decided the best way to break them was through a solid mass of live dates.

The dates were booked, once again the best equipment, including a light show, was bought for them, and distinctive stage costumes especially designed.

"By the time the tour has ended they will be a really tight band. We are getting support in the regions and you can break a record if you can get regional radio stations and disco plays. I believe this record is a hit and the signs are there. This is a ten-year job as far as I'm concerned."

Not that big money backing is any guarantee of success.

One of the biggest projects of this type was the launching of young Darren Burn as Britain's answer to Donny Osmond. To their eternal credit the record-buying public didn't apparently want an answer to Mr Osmond and the campaign failed.

The pop supermarket is not a new trend. The attractively packaged mass-produced record has been a part of the industry for a long time. The early releases of Love Affair, White Plains and Edison Lighthouse for example spring to mind.

The whole thing is justified for the makers by the fact that they still become hits, thus proving there is a demand for made-to-order records. If the public is willing - or gullible enough - to pay 50p for music created in the boardroom. Well it must be OK.

The Merlin single is blatantly, unashamedly aimed at being a big hit - that seems to have been the one criterion in making it. It has all the ingredients and as the whole thing has been done with concentrated professionalism it will probably be a hit.

Back to Roger Greenaway: "I don't want to present this as a Monkees type of image. It's not a manufactured group in any way - these guys have all been in other bands.

"What Merlin are about is success - reaching people. It's so wrong for opposing people to criticise. If Chinn and Chapman go out to reach a particular market at the thing they do best, and they reach them, then they're doing their job. They've filled a gap.

"When this record happens it'll be called hype but we haven't hyped anybody. Not a vast amount of money has been spent on them. It would be silly to have a tour like this without some sort of advertising. All the money that has been spent on them so far has been towards getting them on the road.

"It's expensive but it's minimal if you think of it as a along term thing."

It may be unfair to associate Queen with the pop supermarket. The group themselves were apprehensive about appearing on Top Of The Pops and the prospect of a hit record.

They have always regarded themselves as an album band and were concerned about being connected with the chart groups. The fact remains that they have been on the receiving end of a giant campaign to create a best-selling single and album.

The first album had sold far better than they had anticipated and there was great excitement around Trident and EMI as the second one was being made. Manager Jack Nelson came in virtually every day to play new tracks as they were completed and many discussions followed on which one should be released as a single.

A special meeting was held between Bagnall, Fowler, marketing manager Paul Watts and a few others to discuss the approach to the release of "Queen 2."

"We talked about the possibility of boxing the album, and other various publicity and posters needed to produce an album we were convinced was going to be one of the biggest of the year. We set a high target for it. 'Seven Seas' isn't a housewives' record so with the daily shows like Edmonds, Blackburn and Hamilton, there's no chance of getting it played, we knew that from the start. But the weekend shows - Rosko, Henry, and D.L.T. - they all flipped over it. I took the records round personally because I felt so strongly about it."

The prime plug, however, is Top Of The Pops. If a record gets exposure on that there is a more than even chance that it will become a hit. He played it to the show's Robin Nash and a couple of days later Nash phoned him and asked him where Queen were. Later he rang back and invited Queen to do a session.

The band weren't too sure whether they wanted to do it but eventually agreed although even then they didn't know until the last minute whether it would be used because they were half expecting a David Bowie film to arrive and take it's place. But in the end Queen were shown and "Seven Seas Of Rhye" moved dramatically from there.

"A lot of people have invested an awful lot of time and money in this band but not as a hype," says Bagnall. "The only truth in the music business is that if a band isn't good, no amount of money will get them to make it."

Greenaway may be right that Merlin are one of the most exciting bands to merge since the Beatles. Fowler might be right that Queen are one of the best since the Who. But big business still remains one of the sadder aspects of the music industry today.

----------

Huge thanks to the anon who brought this to my attention, since I’ve been looking for a copy of this article for ages now!

Credit for the original scans goes to @Chrised90751298 over on twitter, though I stitched it back together into a single image for ease of posting over there. Open the image in a new tab to see the full-size version!

#queen band #queen #queenband #merlin band #long post //#text

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

Deck the Halls - pt. 1

A/N: Ummmm.....so this is kind of like a Christmas fic, but it turned out very different than I expected it to. It’s more of a...wintery suspense type thing with an actual lengthy as fuck plot, but the romance is strong from the beginning. I tried to keep it in one post, but the word count is simply too much for me to put in one post. I plan on updating everything that I have so that you all can indulge in the story while I finish it up. I know that this might not be everyone’s cup of hot chocolate, but I hope that some of you enjoy it! I haven’t really done anything of this nature before, so I’m kind of nervous about the whole thing. I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday, and I can’t wait for us to ring in the new year together! I love you all loads!

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, smut, fluff....other things i can’t remember at this moment?

November 1

Harry is walking through the snow.

The soft sound of snow crunching under his boots and the wind whipping around him is all that he can hear at first. He feels cold, but he’s been colder than this. His hand feels warm, though his hands are bare. He glances down, his eyes locking on an emerald green mitten. He feels the fingers in the mitten flex, gripping his hand tightly. He trails his eyes up the arm covered in a light green coat, freezing when he sees the curly tendrils of snow white hair draped over her shoulder. He knows instantly who it is, and he knows exactly how this dream will end.

When his eyes finally land on rich, berry red lips, he feels his breath catch in his throat. He’s never seen her face before this. She’s usually drowning by the time he gets to the lake, already under the block of ice as the man with blue hair holds her under. He can’t help but stare, taking in the beautiful and ethereal features of her face. It’s almost as if she isn’t real at all, from the color of her skin to the pointed tips of her ears. The hair was strange, but he’d gotten used to the beyond platinum shade over the years. It wasn’t so shocking to him anymore.

Harry turns his attention from the girl when he hears a twig snap, his gaze dropping to the snow covered floor of the forest they've been walking through. He wasn’t sure why they were walking in the woods, or where they were going, but he was happy to be spending time by her side. He was happy that he wasn’t watching her die for once, her beautiful face still full of life as her lips moved. She was talking, but he couldn’t hear a word that she said. All he could hear was the wind and the snow, a whistle and a crunch echoing in his ears as if he had winter sounds playing from a quality stereo.

He hated that he couldn’t hear her.

He hated that he didn’t know where they were going.

But suddenly, it all becomes clear.

The lake.

“Don’t.” Harry croaks out through chapped lips, squeezing her fingers in an attempt to get her attention. Her lips stop moving as he pulls her closer, but she offers him a sad smile. “We shouldn’t-”

“It’s alright.” He can finally hear her voice, the sound something akin to Christmas bells being softly run in the middle of the night. “We have to go.”

“You can hear me.” He breathes out, his eyes stinging due to the wind, and the inevitable tragedy that’s about to occur. “You can hear me and I can hear you.”

“I guess so.” She glances up, an amused smile curling the corners of her lips as she hums out.

When she looks back down at Harry, he loses his breath.

“What’s your name?” She asks, turning her back towards the lake, giving him her full attention.

“Harry.” He whispers the word, almost as if he’s afraid for anyone else to hear it. “I...who are you?”

“I can’t tell you.” He watches her face fall, her expression going dismal. “But I want to.”

“You can tell me anything.” He moves closer, squeezing her fingers. “Talk to me, love.”

“I can’t say it.” Her brows furrow in frustration. “It won’t come out, no matter how hard I try to say it.”

“Why is this happening to us?” He presses, moving his feet closer. “Why do you drown every single time? Why can’t I save you?”

“I don’t know.” She glances down, her cheeks losing their glow. “I wish that you could save me, Harry.”

“I’ll try harder this time.” He gulps, his throat tightening as tears threaten his eyes. “I’ll try harder to save you, I promise.”

“But you won’t save me.” She looks up, her own eyes glossed over with unshed tears. “It’s okay, Harry. It was meant to be this way.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” He shakes his head. “I can save you.”

She shakes her head, slowly backing away from him.

“We have to go now.” She says softly, her feet carrying her towards the iced over lake.

Harry notices a pair of skates dangling over her shoulders.

“No, don’t go.” He reaches out for her, but she continues to move away. “Don’t leave me.”

“I have to.” She steps onto the ice, the soft cracking noises causing Harry’s eyes to grow wide with panic. “Save me, Harry.”

And just like that, it’s all over.

November 2 Harry’s POV - Age 21

Harry pushes the door to Paradise Records open, watching a few flakes of paint fall to the concrete stoop outside of his shop. He made a mental note to buy some paint to touch up the door before the holiday season started.

He could feel the frustration creeping up his spine at the mere thought of Christmas, and it was times like these that he wished the world had sympathy for those who hated the holiday. He hated to give into the global phenomenon, but it did bring in enough business and revenue to keep the shop afloat until the annual summer sale rolled around in June.

He sipped at his bitter, black coffee, walking into the record store with a relieved sigh. This was truly his paradise where he escaped from the demons that haunted his mind. For a split second, he was finally at peace after the grueling nightmare he endured. That peace was quickly disturbed by the jingling of bells from the front door, causing Harry to frown as he turned on his heels.

“Another beautiful day in paradise, eh boss!” Niall clapped his hand down on Harry’s shoulder on his way towards the checkout counter, causing Harry to bite back a whine of discomfort. “How are you today?”

There were knots in Harry’s shoulders causing him pain, and most of them were caused by the cheery Irish lad pushing behind the checkout counter.

“Good morning, Niall.” Harry turned towards the boy with a sarcastic smile. “Why are you always so bloody loud.”

“You knew I was loud when ya’ hired me, I put it under my strengths on my job application.” Niall called out as he walked through the beaded curtain to the back office, whistling a tune that made Harry’s ears ache.

“I didn’t know that you were a fucking foghorn, mate.” Harry hiked his leather bag higher up on his shoulder, fighting off a yawn as he followed slowly in Niall’s footsteps.

“Did you have a long night?” Niall popped out from the beaded curtain, causing Harry to jump as he made it behind the counter. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, long night.” Harry grumbled, shutting the employee gate at the end of the counter. “You watch the front for a few hours, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.”

“Sure.” Niall nodded as Harry pushed through the curtain. “If you need anymore coffee, just let Mitch know. He’s stopping at Java Java before he comes in.”

Harry pulled out his phone, typing a quick text telling Mitch not to get Niall coffee.

He didn’t need any more energy.

He needed a proper nights rest.

Harry sat down at his desk, putting his coffee by his keyboard with a heavy sigh.

There wasn’t enough espresso in the world to fix the aching in his head caused by the nightmare he had last night. In the sixteen years that he’d been having the recurring nightmare, he was never able to talk to her in the dream. He was still haunted by the beautiful sound of her voice when she spoke to him, but he was mostly haunted by the sound of her desperate pleas for help. But his feet were frozen solid to the ground as the man with ice blue hair held her under the water. He emerged from the cracks in the ice this time, pulling the girl under with him as she screamed for her life. Harry remembers screaming for her until his throat was sore, but when he woke up this morning, he felt fine.

Harry brushed his palms over his face, inhaling sharply as he tried to push the image of her face from his mind. He didn’t need to spend the rest of his day thinking about her. He needed to get to work. There was a lot that he needed to do in preparation for Christmas. Every single year, parents and Uni students would come into Paradise Records and buy out his record players, and usually all of his Christmas albums. He’d already pre-ordered Christmas albums, but he needed to get in contact with the shipping company and the manufacturer to make sure they all arrived on time for the Christmas sale.

“Hey boss,” Niall’s sudden shout made Harry flinch, muttering a curse under his breath at the Irish lad. “Gemma is here.”

“Tell her to come back.” Harry called back, reaching into his bag in search of his glasses with his left hand while he booted up his computer with his right hand.

He hated wearing glasses, but Gemma bought them for him last Christmas when he opened the shop, insisting that they would improve the quality of his eyesight by blocking out the blue light in most devices. He did notice a slight difference in the quality of his vision after using them.

“Look at you, a dapper young man in his glasses.” Gemma pushed Noah’s pram into Harry’s office, the toddler screeching out the second his eyes landed on his uncle. “Alright, young man, Mum isn’t superwoman. I can’t move that fast.”

“You have five seconds to hand me my nephew before I start screaming with him.” Harry teased, looking at Noah with a wide smile. “I’ve missed you, mate.”

“It’s been three days, not three months.” Gemma huffed out, unbuckling the straps on the pram until Noah was free of restraint. “Alright, you can stop your crying now dove, uncle knobhead is right here.”

Harry scowled at his sister, leaning up to grab his nephew by the waist with ease.

“Harry.” Noah screeched, patting his palms against Harry’s cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hi, bubba.” Harry kissed over Noah’s face, causing him to giggle out as Gemma found a seat on the opposite side of Harry’s desk. “You know he’s not going to leave here without throwing a fit, right?”

“I know.” Gemma let out a breathy laugh laced with frustration. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry settled Noah in his lap, resting his hand on Noah’s lap so that he could entertain himself by playing with the rings on his uncle’s fingers. “What brings you by?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about Christmas.” Gemma said softly, watching Harry’s face change from curious to furious in two seconds flat. “I know, you still don’t feel ready to celebrate after Mum and Dad, but I think we should start easing back into it. Noah is getting older, and we’ve got friends who-”

“I’ll do it for Noah, but I don’t want to celebrate with other people.” Harry interrupted. “I still don’t get how can you be okay with it, Gemma? They died because of some stupid Christmas tradition.”

“So are we supposed to hate pancakes now?” She tossed her hands up with an eye roll. “You drive a bloody car, don’t you? The pancakes didn’t kill them, Harry. Some reckless driver knocked into their car.”

“It’s not-”

“You’re being childish, Harry.” Gemma snapped at her younger brother, shaking her head. “Christmas isn’t the thing that killed Mum and Dad. I know that it sucks, having the anniversary of their death on your favorite holiday, but you have to deal with this. You can’t keep pushing it off like this.”

“I can, and I will.” He said, clearing his throat as his sister shook her head. “I don’t want to be happy without them on such a terrible day, Gemma.”

“I really think you should talk to someone about this.” She sighed, brushing her palms over her thighs. “I think it would do you some good to work out the issues you have surrounding this whole thing. I’ve been talking to someone since it happened, and it’s really helped me cope.”

“I don’t need help.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Gemma.”

“It’s not fine, and the fact that you don’t seem to realize that worries me the most.” She whispered. “You’re drowning in your own grief, and I can’t save you.”

Harry froze, his eyes snapping back to his sister.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I said it’s like you’re drowning in your own grief.” She said slowly, tilting her head with narrowed eyes as Harry stared back at her like she’d stepped on his foot. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because…..” He paused, licking over his bottom lip as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head. It was best not to mention the nightmares, or the girl. “Nothing.”

“There you go again.” She let out a bitter laugh, smacking her thighs. “You can’t keep everything bottled in forever, Harry.”

But this, I should keep bottled in.

“It seems to be working out alright.” Harry shrugged, searching for something to change the subject. “How are we on presents for little man this year? Did you get everything on your list?”

“Yeah, nearly.” Gemma mumbled, picking at a loose strand of thread on her scarf. “Niall has helped me get most of the shopping done when I’m at work. He’s truly a godsend, Harry. I’m so happy he lives close by, and that Noah loves him.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at his sister, previous suspicions about Niall and Gemma creeping back into his mind. He always knew there was something between the two, but he could never get a straight answer out of either of them on their feelings. Gemma swore that he was only a friend, and a good neighbor. Niall swore that he only hung around Gemma to hang out with Noah. Harry pressed his lips together, watching as Gemma’s cheeks turned pink, the soft color giving away their secrets in an instant. Normally, she was better at hiding it.

“What?” She squeaked out, shifting in her chair.

“You slept with Niall, didn't you?” Harry said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “You finally bit the bullet and slept with him.”

“Harry, Noah is right there.” Gemma’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t say things like that in front of him!”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Gemma! Who was watching Noah when you were getting it on with Niall of all people!” Harry asked, his brows lifting up towards his hairline. “Noah doesn’t know what that means, calm down.”

Gemma snapped her mouth shut, sinking in her chair.

Harry wasn’t really mad, but he enjoyed teasing Gemma.

Niall was a good guy.

“My poor nephew.” Harry tutted, shaking his head before he pressed a kiss to the soft ginger hair on top of Noah’s head. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I’ll make sure to dock Niall’s pay to help out with the therapy you’re going to need when you’re older.”

“Alright, we get it.” Gemma grumbled, crossing her arms with a frown. “I’m a terrible mother and a horrible sister.”

“Hey.” Harry snapped, turning his attention back towards his sister with furrowed brows and a deep frown. “I never said that, and I never will. I’m only teasing you because you slept with fucking lucky charms out there, I’m not shaming you as a woman or a mother in anyway. You’re allowed to have fun, Gemma.”

“I know.” Her lips curved into a smile as her brother nodded, glancing at Noah as the toddler tried to pull off his Grateful Dead ring. It seemed to be his nephew’s favorite ring, and Harry couldn’t wait until Noah was old enough to wear it himself. “I’ve raised you well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes with a playful snort. “I just don’t want to hear about you and Niall’s sex life ever again, capiche?”

“Got it.” She nodded, trying not to smile. “He’s a really good guy, Harry, and I really like him a lot. I would also love it if he could spend Christmas with us.”

Realization dawned over Harry as he looked at his sister.

So that’s what this is about.

“You want him to spend Christmas with the three of us?” Harry asked. “Like, as a family?”

“We’re gonna ease Niall into it, but I think so.” She softly laughed. “Noah adores him, Harry, and quite frankly so do I.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at his nephew with hesitation.

These two were all that he had left in the world, and bloody Niall was trying to take them away.

But maybe she needed someone like Niall in her life to balance out all of the bad that loomed over her head. The Irishman was supportive, and positive no matter what situation he was in. He was loyal and kind to everyone he met, and he was honest, and genuinely the best at giving advice. Harry hated to admit it, but Niall was everything Harry used to be. He couldn’t be that positive influence that his sister and nephew needed anymore, but Niall could.

So maybe he needed to let them move on.

“Yeah.” Harry whispered. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Gemma smiled. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“I can’t believe-”

“Oh, actually-” Gemma held up her hand, interrupting Harry. “I am also asking that you won’t kill him when I leave.”

“That’s asking a lot.” Harry blew out a breath, shaking his head. “I’m definitely allowed at least one punch, Gemma. My best mate slept with my sister, c’mon.”

“Please don’t punch him, he bruises like a peach.” Gemma groaned.

“How do you know that?” Harry’s brows lifted before they fell, a look of disgust washing over his face as Gemma pressed her lips together. “That’s fucking gross! I didn’t need to know that!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Did you tell him?” Niall’s head poked into Harry’s office. “Did he call me his best mate a second ago?”

“I’m going to punch you.” Harry lifted his free hand, pointing at Niall. “You’re lucky I have Noah in my lap, mate.”

“But I bruise like a peach!” Niall looked at Gemma with wide eyes. “Did ya tell him, love?”

“I did.” She nodded, but she pursed her lips in defeat. “I can’t help you with this one, Ni.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Niall groaned. “I knew I should have taken those self defense classes with you Gem.”

Harry watched Niall sulk out of his office, Gemma glaring at Harry before she got up to follow her new loverboy. Harry rolled his eyes before glancing down to Noah. The toddler dropped his head back against Harry’s chest, lifting his uncle’s hand up to chew on one of his fingers with a sparkle in his eyes.

“This is your fault, mate.” Harry said softly, not a stitch of malice in his voice. “I’m only agreeing to this because I love you more than anyone else in the world, and I expect you to change my nappies in return when I’m old, do you hear me?”

“Harry.” Noah gurgled out, a gummy smile melting Harry’s fake stern expression. “Harry, hi!”

“I love you.” Harry pressed soft kisses all over Noah’s face. “You’re my favorite human... even if you don’t have any teeth.”

November 3 Holland’s POV

Holland felt like she was going to vomit as she walked through the halls of Santa’s workshop.

As the elves watched her with judgmental, licorice colored eyes, her palms started to sweat, and her feet moved faster. Her father requested her for an urgent meeting, but Holland truly had no idea what it could be about. She hadn’t told anyone about her dreams, afraid that people would think she was crazy for having them. She was used to the dreams, but last night’s dream put her on edge. Something was different about the situation, and it wasn’t just the fact that she knew the boy’s name.

For the first time since they started, she saw his face.

She would admit without shame that she would die over and over again in her dream if it meant she could look at him. His hair was shoulder length and the strands curled up at the end. He had a beautiful set of candy pink lips that Holland wanted to taste with her own, and gorgeous jade eyes that were almost translucent. She spent most of her nightmare staring into them, trying to see into his soul as if it would help her find him.

But it didn’t work.

He was still just a stranger to her.

A stranger named Harry.

As she approached her father’s office, she felt her palms become slicker than they were before as her heart pounded faster and faster in her chest. She reached down for the doorknob, turning it before she pushed the heavy wooden door open. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the three, ominous figures standing off to the side of her father’s desk. The vibe that they gave off sent shivers down her spine as the little hairs on her arm stuck up to warn her of danger.

“Come in.” Her father ushered her in, and Holland’s feet followed the command without hesitation. “Holland, I would like for you to meet the Council of Elders.”

“Hello.” Holland offered them a small wave, her body shrinking nervously as they glared back at her.

Their dark robes were just as creepy as the large, wooden walking sticks they carried.

“Young child.” One of the men spoke up, holding his hand out to her. “Give me your hand.”

Holland looked towards her father, afraid to take a stranger’s hand.

“Go on, Holland.” Her father said. “Do as they ask, my dear. I promise that they won’t hurt you.”

Holland moved closer to the man with jet black hair, sliding her fingers into his palm.

A shock greeted her senses, causing her to gasp and jump.

“It’s alright.” The man whispered. “Close your eyes, show me what you see.”

When Holland obeyed his order, Holland thought of the lake.

Her entire dream played out in her head, almost as if it were on a television screen instead of in her mind. The closer they got towards the end, the harder Holland gripped the man’s hand in her own. The end was the part that she hated the most, the part that tore her apart.

“Holland, baby, please breathe for me.” Harry’s palms brushed over her cheeks, tears streaming down his own as he tried to bring her back to life. “I need you to wake up, Holland! I need you.”

The dream finished with Holland on the ice, Harry sobbing into her neck.

He did know her name.

“My, my, my.” The man spoke, tutting his tongue. “It seems that I was right after all.”

“Right about what?” Holland whispered, blinking her eyes rapidly in attempts to clear the tears from her vision. “How did you know about my nightmares?”

“Because I rule them, my dear.” The man spoke. “I’m Morpheus, the god of dreams.”

“Oh.” She whispered, still in shock. “You make those happen?”’

“Most dreams are of my creation, but not yours.” He said. “Your nightmare is crafted at the hand of someone else, a master manipulator that has conned his way into using someone else’s magic.”

“Morpheus, I would like to know what in the sleigh bells is going on with my daughter-”

“Kristopher, this is not your place.” The shortest of the three men hissed, his chubby cheeks turning red.

“Now, now…” The only woman spoke up, a sly smirk on her black painted lips. “Erotes, Kristopher is merely concerned for his offspring.”

“If he was concerned about her well being, Ma’at, he would not have split her from the boy-”

“Erotes.” Morpheus drawled out. “He could not have known about the boy.

“He should have known.” Erotes turned back to Holland, offering her a soft smile. “To be parted from the other half of one’s soul is a pain I would not wish on my worst enemies. I sincerely apologize on behalf of myself for letting you be away from him for so long.”

“I don’t understand.” Holland looked from Erotes to Morpheus, her brow furrowed. “What does-”

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” The man hummed out as if Holland were a specimen that he was examining in a lab instead of a girl.

“He knows my name.” She whispered. “And I know his name.”

“And you didn’t know it before.” The man narrowed his dark eyes, staring at her with a curious grin. “How is that, little elf?”

“I don’t know.” She tried to pull her hand back, but the man kept her fingers in a tight hold. “I just...I had the first dream when I was five, and it’s always been the same up until last week. It was all the same until suddenly I saw his face, clearer than it’s ever been before. I said his name like I’d known it all along and then….when I was drowning I saw him for the first time.”

Holland cleared her throat as it started to tighten, trying to regain her voice.

“You saw who did it.” The man spoke. “You know who it is that is trying to kill you both?”

“I do.” She nodded, licking over her lips nervously. “It’s Jack Frost.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Kris spoke up from his desk, his chair scraping across the wooden floor as he stood up. “What does Frost have to do with this?”

“The boy that you exposed yourself to as Santa sixteen years ago on Christmas night is your daughter’s other half.” Erotes said. “They are two souls created from the same star, the brightest star, and their love for each other has been tainted by your ignorance. The moment you laid eyes on the boy, you should have contacted me.”

“He reminded me of Holland, but I didn’t...” Kris said. “He had that same glow that she has in her eyes, I remember that much about him.”

“Their souls were forged from the ash of the Christmas star.” Morpheus said. “Other than you and your son, these two are the last people on earth with true Christmas spirit and it is their job as children of the Christmas star to instill that spirit into the souls of everyone they meet.”

“Jack Frost wishes to kill them both to absorb that power for a different use, of course.” Ma’at spoke up, drawing Holland’s eyes from Morpheus. “In the wrong hands, their power can be used for evil things.”

“When Frost kills them both, he will kill Christmas.” Erotes tutted. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, Kringle. The humans wouldn’t know what to do without Christmas, it would be horrible.”

“So what do we do?” Holland looked at Morpheus, swallowing around the lump in her throat as he looked down at her.

“We must keep an eye on Jack Frost.” Morpheus spoke. “And you must find your soulmate. He has suffered great tragedy, and his Christmas spirit is nearly gone. You must save him, and restore his power if you wish to properly fight for your lives.”

“Both souls must be pure in order for you to fight Jack Frost and his twisted magic.” Ma’at said.

“You must go to him, Holland.” Erotes said. “You must be by your beloved.”

“I don’t have any clue how to survive in the real world.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know where to find him, or how I would even begin to restore his Christmas spirit. I’ve never been trained on that kind of thing.”

“Look at me, Holland.” Morpheus snapped. “I have faith in your ability to do this without failing, but my faith in you is nothing if you don’t believe in yourself. Let that be the lesson you learn during this mission of yours.”

“Without Christmas, the rest of us will cease to exist.” Ma’at said. “The entire world of magic relies on you.”

“I will take you to him in six days time.” Erotes said. “He is in London.”

She swallowed, clenching her fingers into fists at her side.

“Alright.” She said softly. “What do I need to do to prepare myself?”

“There is a book you must read.” Morpheus said. “I will send it to you as soon as I return to my own realm. You need to practice your Christmas magic, little elf.”

When Holland blinked, the council of elders was gone without a trace.

She turned around to her Father with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.

“What in the sugar plum just happened?”

November 7 Harry’s POV

Harry felt like he was one gust of winter wind away from falling over.

The lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him as the days grew shorter and the nights colder.

Fighting off sleep to avoid the violent dreams that plagued his mind at night wasn’t helping, because no matter how hard he tried to fight it off with caffeine, or cold showers, he ended up falling into the ominous forest in his mind where he would inevitably watch the girl die the same way that she always did. But the blue haired man was getting bolder, taunting Harry with icy smirks and snide remarks. Harry could never retaliate with his feet frozen solid to the forest ground however. His eyes were always glued to the girl with snow white hair as she cried his name out, his heart breaking in his chest as he accepted the cruel fate bestowed upon them.

She was fighting so hard to stay alive, and it killed Harry knowing that it was never enough. He spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that it was just a nightmare, something that the darkest parts of his brain conjured up to punish him. But with each passing night that he stared into the girls eyes, he started to think that he was wrong about that. His brain didn’t conjure this dream up at all, it was real. It made him feel insane, of course, thinking that some recurring dream with two strangers in it wasn’t a dream at all, but a reality. But he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was a premonition, not a figment of his imagination.

That girl was real, and Harry cared for her.

They weren’t just friends in the nightmares, they were lovers.

At this point, he was considering committing himself to an insane asylum so that he didn’t end up accidentally telling someone about these dreams. If he told anyone, they would surely look at him like he was loony, and he couldn’t really blame them. It was a weird situation, and he didn’t have anyone he could confide in.

“Why do you look like you’re in pain?” Niall nudged Harry’s foot with his own, lifting his pint up to his lips as Harry snapped out of his thoughts. “You’ve been staring at the table for like, five solid minutes. Do you have heartburn or something?”

“I don’t have heartburn, you prick.” Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his own pint from the table before he tipped it back. “I’m still upset with you for sleeping with my sister.”

“Here it goes.” Mitch inhaled, trying not to laugh as he reached for his whiskey. “Styles, I don’t think talking about your sister’s sex life with your best mate, while your drunk, is a good idea.”

“Yeah, what Mitch said.” Niall shifted uncomfortable as Harry slapped on a fake scowl, sending it towards the blonde boy. “You’ve already threatened to punch me-”

“I’m still going to.” Harry said plainly. “Of all the women in the world, you had to pick my sister.”

“Mitchell, help me.” Niall whined, glancing over at the brunette with desperate eyes. “I don’t want to die tonight.”

“I don’t think that I can help you.” Mitch shrugged his shoulders, catching the wink Harry sent his way. “He might actually kill you.”

“I might.” Harry shrugged, sipping at his beer. “I might save it for a rainy day, who knows?”

“Jesus.” Niall scoffed, shaking his head. “I better call my Ma and tell her I love her then.”

“Niall, I’m kidding.” Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I’m happy for you both. I think you’re good for her, even if I hate to admit it.”

“Really?” Niall let out a sigh. “Because I really like her.”

“I know that you do.” Harry nodded, sitting his pint glass on the table. “And I know that you love Noah just as much as you love her.”

“I really do.” Niall’s lips curved up in a secret smile. “They make me happy.”

“And the end of the day, that’s all we can really ask for.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. "But I don't want to hear anymore about how you bruise like a peach or what you get up to in your spare time.”

“That’s fair enough.” Niall nodded.

Harry lifted his pint glass, downing what was left before he stood up.

“Where are you going?” Niall’s brows furrowed. “It’s still early!”

“I’ve got to open the shop tomorrow.” Harry reached for his jacket, sliding his arms in. “I don’t want to be late….or hungover.”

“I think you’ll already be hungover.” Mitch laughed. “I can open if you’d like me to, I don’t have any plans tomorrow.”

“Nah, you spend time working on those guitar skills, shredder.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets as he looked at Niall. “And you, treat my sister to breakfast or something you lowlife.”

“Will do.” Niall laughed, his cheeks turning pink. “We’ll drop something off for you with Noah?”

“I’d like that.” Harry mumbled, offering Niall a tight lipped smile. “Alright lads, you be good.”

“Same to you.”

Harry waved at his friends before he made his way out of the pub.

He walked towards the end of the street, looking both ways before he ran across.

His building wasn’t far from the pub, but the wind whipping around made it feel like a twenty mile trek in the tundra. Harry was shivering by the time he made it into his building, his feet carrying him slowly through the lobby and towards the lift. He stepped in, using his elbow to press the button to his floor as his teeth started to chatter. The landlord was going to get an earful about the temperature inside the building tomorrow, Harry would make sure of it.

He stepped off of the lift, fumbling his fingers around in his pocket until he made contact with his keys. He pulled them out, glancing down until he found the one that opened his flat. As he walked down the hall, his mind went back to the girl. He could almost smell her familiar scent in the air, berries and clove filling his senses with every step he took. He was sure one of the ladies that lived down his hall was burning a winter candle with the same scent.

It was the only explanation.

When he made it towards his door, he heard a soft gasp.

He lifted his head up, his eyes growing wide as he saw the girl from his dreams standing right across the hall from his flat. She was staring at him, her pine colored eyes wide with disbelief and her berry red lips parted with shock. Her hair wasn’t as white as he remembered, more honey colored tones tied into the strands to compliment her skin. Harry stopped in his tracks, his heart slamming against his rib cage as she blinked rapidly, shaking her head as if she were trying to bring herself back into reality.

Harry swallowed around the nerves in his throat as he took one step forward.

Just as his foot landed on the ground, she fell to the floor.

Harry felt like he lost all of the air in his lungs, vivid visions of her body falling through the ice playing through his mind. But this time, he could do something about it. He rushed forward, grabbing her arms with his palms to lift her up as her head lolled back. She was limp, her body heavy and warm in his hands. He was shocked by just how warm she was, her skin was usually ice cold by the time that he got to her. He felt the tears blurring his eyes as she lay there.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Get up!”

Her eyes snapped open at that, the dark shade of green greeting Harry like a breath of fresh air.

He was stone cold sober when he yanked her against his chest, holding her tight in his arms.

“I can’t breathe.” She gasped out, her hands tapping his shoulders. “Harry?”

He pulled back, staring back into her eyes with pink cheeks.

“How are you here?” He asked her, licking over his lips.

“Um, I don’t really have an answer for any of it.” She cleared her throat, glancing away from his gaze with shy eyes. “I just kind of...ended up here?”

“Did you take a taxi or something?” He asked, confused when she laughed. “Do you live in London? Have you always lived in London?”

“To be honest with you, I think that I teleported here.” She said slowly, like she was unsure of the response he might have. “That might sound insane to you. I know you only ever see stuff like that in Dr. Who, but um, it’s kind of real?”

“You sound like a mad woman.” He whispered, his eyes flitting over the features of her face, taking it all in. “But for some reason, I believe you.”

“If you think that was mad, wait until we dive into the fun stuff.” She said softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here, if I’m being honest with you.”

Harry nodded, loosening his grip on her arms.

“Do you have some place to stay?” He asked her. “Or do you plan on teleporting back to wherever you came from?”

“Um, that’s my flat.” She pointed to the door just next to them. “I’m staying there until...well, until I can go home.”

Harry suddenly felt drunk again, his mind swirling with information as he let go of her.

She sat up on her own, clearing her throat as she brushed her palms over her thighs.

“I’m gonna get off of the floor now.” She said softly. “Is that okay?”

“Just promise me that you won’t faint again.” He felt his brows pull together in concern, panic flashing into his heart. “Please?”

“I will try not to.” Her laughter still sounded like bells. “Um, so, I know your name-”

“But I’ve never learned yours.” He finished for her, standing up before he offered his hands out to her. He pulled her up, pressing his hand against her hip when she stumbled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” She offered him a smile, one that genuinely comforted him. “I’m Holland.”

Holland.

“Holland, baby, please breathe.”

“I did know that.” He cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck as his cheeks grew warm. “I guess….I guess I forgot about that part of my dream.”

“Our dream.” She pressed her lips together, fighting off a smile. “I have the same one.”

“How do you know both of our dreams are the same?” He asked, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Maybe mine is different from yours.”

“I think I die in each version of the dream, Harry.” She said softly, trying not to laugh when his face paled. “But, I’m here now, in the flesh!”

“But you’re going to die.” He said slowly, anger rising in his chest. “That’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not going to die.” She was firm with her response, holding her chin up proudly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I refuse to die like that, it just won’t do.”

“I don’t think you can control it.” Harry said, his voice bleeding with frustration and disbelief. “You are a mad woman.”

“I’m not.” Her berry lips pushed out into a pout, and Harry nearly dropped to his knees. “I’m very smart, and extremely sane, Harry. I just….I happen to know things that you don’t!”

“Things like teleportation?” He asked, his brows lifting towards his hairline. “You look different, did you know that?”

“No.” She said. “Why do I look different?”

“Your hair is normally white.” He lifted his hand, grabbing a few strands gently. “And your skin is normally like the snow.”

“I suppose it would be weird if I walked around London looking like that, eh?” She asked. “I can’t exactly be myself in this world.”

Harry knew what that was like.

“I think you’ll be just fine.” He whispered. “You’re still beautiful.”

“Well, I should probably go inside.” Holland said softly. “I’m quite knackered from all of that teleporting and stuff.”

Harry felt panic start to rise in his chest again.

She was leaving him.

What if something happened to her while he was just across the hall?

He would never forgive himself.

“You’re…” He felt his palms get sweaty. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’m sure.” She nodded. “I’ve done a lot of research on this place, so I think I’ve got the hang of everything.”

“This place, as in the complex or this place, as in earth?”

“This place as in London.” She snorted. “I’m from Earth, gumdrop. I just come from a very small, remote island near the arctic.”

“Are you really from earth?” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Because I could have sworn you fell from heaven.”

Harry watched her cheeks glow like they did in the beginning of his dream.

“You’re cheeky.” She said softly. “I learned what that means by watching Skins. By the way, those children should all be on the naughty list, they’re horrid.”

Harry froze, watching Holland as she shook her head.

“You still believe in Santa?” He asked her softly, as if he were afraid he would startle her.

“Oh, yeah.” Her eyes grew wide, but she was quick to look away. “Who doesn’t?”

“Most of the world.” He cleared his throat. “Most of us don’t even like Christmas.”

“Gumdrop, by the time I’m through with you, I’ll have you singing Christmas Carols with Santa himself.”

“If there’s one thing you should know about me, Holland-” His voice was low as he spoke, frustration bubbling in his chest.. “It’s that I will never love Christmas or anything that has to do with that bloody holiday.”

He pulled his hand back, turning on his heel before he slipped his key into the lock.

He could feel Holland’s eyes on his back, but after the comment he made, he needed a little time to cool down. Sure, Holland was someone that he had dreamed of meeting for most of his life, but he didn’t really know her as a person. He drew the line at Christmas with anyone, and she was no exception to his strict rule. He pushed into his flat, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Seconds later, he dropped his head against the door with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe this is another dream.” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Wake up, Harry.”

But when he opened his eyes, he was still standing in his apartment, and he could still smell the sweet scent of berry and clove.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x ofc #harry styles original fic #harry styles x original female character #harry fic #harry au #harry writing #my writing #harry fanfiction #harry fluff #harry x ofc #harry styles holiday fic #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles christmas

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goodguydotmp3 · 4 years

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two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others.

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort.

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like!

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months.

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time.

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE!

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take.

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer.

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does.

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!)

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app.

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo.

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK.

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles.

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus.

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels

#hazza curly mchazzerson #This is like 4 thousand words #Have fun #Harry Styles

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beelsnack · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I saw ur post about u being stressed at work so please take ur time with this request! There's no rush! Ur wellbeing is more important 💖 But when you get the time how about some headcanons for an MC who is very cute and naive but got teased for being so at RAD so they try to dress "cool" and pretend to be all badass but their tough persona just makes the demon brothers uwu even more cuz they think it's adorable how hard they're trying

Ah, thank you for being patient, Nonnie! I hope this was worth the wait!

I realized a bit too late that I may have misinterpreted your request a little, but I hope it turned out alright anyway. ^^

-----

Lucifer: “Careful, my dear, your face may get stuck like that.”

When the human turned around to greet him, they had their normal cheerful grin on their face. However, Lucifer watched as their expression turned surprised, then frustrated before they managed to school it back into the hilariously deep frown they had been forcing all day.

“Would you mind telling me why you’re making that ridiculous face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They fell into step beside him. Even though they had pretty much figured out the layout of RAD, Lucifer insisted on walking with them to the Student Council Chambers. At first, it was just to make sure they didn’t accidentally end up in the torture chambers in the lower levels, but now he genuinely enjoyed the few moments they had alone together. Hearing them chatter on about their day lifted his mood exponentially.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Lucifer inclined his head. “Force that scowl for much longer and you might pull a facial muscle.”

They wavered for a second before sighing. “Did it really look that bad?”

“It was quite an unnatural look for you.” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Would you mind telling me just what you were trying to do?”

“...Some demons in my class told me I smiled too much.” they admitted. “So I was trying to...not?”

Lucifer paused, regarding them with a raised eyebrow. “What in the Three Realms does ‘smiling too much’ mean?”

“I’m...not sure honestly,” they shrugged.

“My dear,” he stopped in front of them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “I don’t particularly care what those other demons think or want, but I will not have you depriving me of your beautiful smile.”

Mammon: That was his jacket.

It was way too big on them, making them look even smaller than they already did. It was also very clearly not part of the RAD uniform - not that any of the brothers wore their uniforms correctly, but the human was usually pretty up to code with theirs.

He caught up to them in a few steps and grabbed onto the collar of their - his - jacket. “Hey, human! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

They squeaked in surprise, and for a moment Mammon was caught off guard by how unbearably adorable it was. When they turned around, they were grinning sheepishly at him.

“H-hi Mammon.”

Oof. Honestly, he did not anticipate how seeing them wearing his clothes was going to affect him. The sleeves came down to their knuckles, and they had curled their fingers around the cuffs almost instinctively, It was too cute, he felt like his heart was trying to smash through his ribcage.

“You - you got a whole lotta nerve, stealing from the Great Mammon.” he released their collar, they both continued walking, although he had completely forgotten that his class was in the complete opposite direction.

“You left it in my room, though.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re wearin’ it!”

“I’m sorry.” they sighed, beginning to shrug the jacket off of their shoulders. “Some demons were picking on me, so I thought they would leave me alone if I dressed a bit tougher. It didn’t work anyway, so I’ll give it back now.”

They were just about to yank their arms out of the sleeves when Mammon shook his head.

“Keep it, if it makes you feel better.” he definitely wasn’t blushing, nope, not even a little bit. “I’ve got others, so just accept the Great Mammon’s generosity.”

Leviathan: “Please tell me you didn’t pay a stupid amount of cash for those.”

The human frowned up at Levi, putting a hand over their new headphones almost protectively. “I paid a perfectly reasonable amount!”

“I wouldn’t pay anything for those,” he frowned. “The manufacturers would have to pay me, actually.”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” they huffed. “I just bought them so people would stop talking about me when they think I’m listening.”

Levi tilted his head. “Huh?”

The human sighed, playing idly with the cord of the headphones. “Some demons in my Curses class like to freak me out by saying how yummy I look when they catch my eye. I kind of hoped that they would stop if they weren’t getting a rise out of me.”

A white-hot surge of protectiveness crashed over him as the human curled in on themself. He might have been a giant otaku, but he would be damned if he let anything happen to his best friend. Well, more damned than he already was, anyway.

“You should have just said something,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have an old pair you can have. They still work fine, but they released a limited-edition Ruri-chan version and obviously I have to rep my waifu so I’ve been using those - “

Satan: “Can I ask you something?”

The two of them were on their way to the RAD’s library. Satan honestly didn’t need to study, but the human definitely did, and using an academic excuse meant that Lucifer was more likely to leave the two of them alone.

“Of course,” Satan held the door open for them. Without even bothering to look, he began walking over to the table that had basically become their territory. Even if there were other demons there, they would probably scamper off.

“How do you get people to be afraid of you?”

Satan paused, raising an eyebrow in an expression that definitely did not make him look strikingly like Lucifer. “Me specifically?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, being the Avatar of Wrath gives me a leg up.”

The human scowled. “Damn it.”

“Why would you want people to be afraid of you?” Satan asked as they sat down. Up until this point, the human’s modus operandi was being so sweet that nobody ever wanted to hurt them, so the threatening angle was a complete 180.

“Some demons in class were making comments about me being dessert.” they mumbled, taking out their textbooks before slinging their bag over the back of the chair. “I honestly couldn’t tell if they were talking about my personality or my flesh, so…”

“Okay, first of all,” Satan leaned forward on his elbows. “We kill them.”

“Satan, no.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, darling, what have you done to yourself?”

They really needed to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign or something. Not that it would stop anything, but still.

Asmo at least had the decency to shut the door behind him, but that was as far as it went. He was openly staring at them, doing his best impression of the Scream painting.

“The makeup tutorial made this look so much easier.” they sighed, leaning back in their chair.

“They always do,” Asmo came over behind them, placing his hands on their shoulders as he leaned down to look at their laptop screen. “Never trust the ones on Sinterest.”

Their final product looked nothing like the model on the screen. The wings of their eyeliner were crooked, and one eye was longer than the other. The contouring made them look like a clown, and somehow they had gotten black eyeshadow on their nose.

“That’s quite the change of pace for you, darling.” Asmo commented, “It’s a look, but why the sudden switch?”

The human remained silent, their bottom lip quivering in a way that made Asmo want to gathering them up in a blanket. Eventually, they sighed again.

“All the succubi look so cool, and I always look...” they paused. “Human.”

“Darling, I don’t know how to break this to you - “

“I know, I know.” they grumbled. “I just wanted to look badass for once!”

The puppy-dog pout they had going on wasn’t doing anything for that particular look, but Asmo decided to keep that comment to himself. Instead, he spun them around, hands still on their shoulders. “Now, now, don’t make that face. Let’s see if we can’t fix this up a little, hm?”

Beelzebub: “What are you doing?”

He hadn’t meant to scare them, but they jumped like he had jumped from the ceiling. The yelp they let out made him feel guilty. Maybe Mammon was right when he said that Beel was disturbingly sneaky for someone his size.

Usually the gym was empty when he came for his morning workout, so seeing the human seated on the workout bench was a definite surprise. Not a bad one though.

“Beel!” the set the weight down. “Um…g-good morning…?”

“Morning,” he replied, making his way over to where they were situated. “You’re not usually one to workout, much less this early in the morning.”

“I, uh…” they stammered. “I wanted to get a little stronger, is all.”

“Not that I’m going to stop you,” he set his gym bag down next to the weight rack. “But why?”

They grumbled under their breath, but eventually sighed. “Some demons at RAD told me I looked chewy.”

“I mean, you kind of do.”

“Hey!”

“All humans look chewy, though.” he shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing. But you want to build up some muscle, right?”

They pouted, and Beel really wanted to reach out and pat them on the head. Instead, he sat next to them on the bench and handed them the weight they had been using.

“Okay, so you want to hold it like this…”

Belphegor: “You had a funny dream last night.”

They had learned from experience that telling Belphie to stop invading their privacy by watching their dreams did exactly fuck all, so they just huffed in annoyance as he flopped against their shoulder. “It wasn’t funny.”

“Amusing, then.”

“For you, maybe.”

They felt him smirk against their shoulder. “You really think a leather jacket and sunglasses will make demons think you’re tough?”

“More than skipping around with flowers in my hair would.”

“I think you would look cute with flowers in your hair. Let’s take some black roses from Diavolo’s garden.”

“Aren’t those poisonous?”

Belphie shifted, nuzzling into their neck as the professor walked in. “It’ll help with the tough image.”

“For about 4 hours until I start foaming at the mouth.” they folded their arms, jostling Belphie from their shoulder.

The demon laughed, pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned forward onto the desk. “I like how you are now. If someone starts giving you trouble, I’ll kill them for you.”

“No cannibalism, please.”

“That’s more Beel’s territory.”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

Text

Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 1

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

***

The landing gear snapped off on impact. The aeroplane skidded across the wet earth, its momentum fast eaten by the mud that sucked at its belly, and lurched to rest. Launchpad pushed himself upright in the cockpit, weight on one arm, the other clutched tightly across his chest. He got a leg over the cockpit, then tumbled out and over the crumpled wing and slammed into the mud.

“Gawd damn it!” Launchpad sucked in a breath as pain shot through his arm. He’d broken bones before. But he was soaked through and exhausted. He could not stop trembling in the cold.

His remaining energy was draining fast, but he forced himself to raise his head. In the house barely fifty feet away, a light flickered on. Its residents could not have missed the fated flight of the aeroplane right above their very heads, nor the subsequent crash. Launchpad could only hope they were the same as those in his world had been. That in this world, they were still here. That they would even care. He dragged himself upright, still cradling his arm, and stumbled towards the front porch.

The front door opened, and a broad-shouldered man stepped out into the night. He held a shot gun, but it swung lazily down by his side. “Hey, what’s going on! Are you alright out there?”

A smaller woman stepped out beside him. She squinted into the darkness, then gasped faintly. She squeezed her husband’s shoulder. “Rip…”

He left the gun right there on the porch and rushed over. His wife beat him there. She reached up and grasped Launchpad’s shoulders, looked into his eyes. “Sweetheart, what have you done to yourself?”

Launchpad saw the realisation dawn on her face even as he shook his head. “I’m not your son. But I know him. He’s a friend of mine, and… I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” His knees buckled. The man who was not his father lunged forward. Launchpad felt his arms around him, taking his weight, as he sunk to the ground and the world blackened.

***

“Launchpad!” Gosalyn’s voice carried into the kitchen. “Your Mom is on the phone!”

Launchpad dropped his spoon into his cereal with a splash, put his face into his hands, and groaned loudly.

Across the other side of the kitchen table, Drake scoffed. “Seriously, LP? This is getting ridiculous. Go and talk to your mother.”

“She called like last week!” Launchpad shot back, face still in his hands.

“Last week? More like three weeks ago.” Drake pointed out. “You know, I didn’t always get on with my parents either. But if I had the chance to talk to them again…”

“The whole DW thing doesn’t exactly make it easy.” He’d tried to explain it to Drake before.

“Launchpad!”

Looked like he wouldn’t get the chance to now either. Launchpad pushed his cereal away with a huff and headed out to the phone. It could be worse. It could be his father. Gosalyn eagerly held out the receiver. The second Launchpad took it she bolted for the kitchen. “Hi, Mom.”

“Sweetheart! I’m so glad I got you.”

Launchpad smiled faintly. Despite the frustration talking to his parents always seemed to cause him, it was good to hear her voice again. With any luck, he’d get this over with before Drake got apprehensive about whatever secrets he thought his sidekick was giving away. His mother could be awkward, and with DW trying to listen in half the time, however justifiable his reasons, it only made the whole thing worse.

“Gosalyn, no!” Drake’s voice came from the kitchen. “You are not eating chocolate for breakfast!”

“But it’s cereal. Why do we even have it if we can’t eat it for breakfast?”

“Launchpad bought it. Put it back!”

Well, at least Gosalyn was distracting him. He might get to have a private conversation for once.

On the other end of the line, his mother chuckled. “Is that your boyfriend and his daughter?”

Launchpad flushed. “Mom! I told you; he’s my housemate. I’m just helping him out with his kid, and…” Numerous other activities DW would literally kill him for if he told his family about. “Stuff.”

“Okay,” said his mother, though she sounded thoroughly unconvinced. “How’s your job flying going? Was it private or commercial again?” She was fishing. Because, obviously, he’d told her nothing about the Thunderquack.

“Private,” he said tersely.

Back when he’d been working for Mr McDee, even though they hadn’t spoken often on the phone, when his mother called, she would always ask him about the planes. Working for a billionaire? Not a problem. They didn’t give a damn who you told about their assets. There were always new planes, and Launchpad had been unable to stop himself spilling everything. How high they were rated to fly, how far, the engine, make and model… And then his mother could tell him, right off the bat, every detail of the history of that engine, not missing, of course, any women who’d been involved in its manufacture.

Not for the first time, all Launchpad wanted to do was scream into the phone: “Mom, I designed and built a plane. It’s called the Thunderquack. It’s got complex electronics and everything. And it didn’t even matter that half my teachers to told me I had to be smart to make something like that!

“Was there a reason you called?” Launchpad forced himself to say instead.

There was a pause. Launchpad felt the energy drain from the conversation like fuel from a punctured tank. “I wanted to talk to you about you coming to visit.”

Launchpad stiffened. “I told you and Dad, I’m pretty busy.”

“I know, Launchpad. And I didn’t intend to bug you again so soon.”

Launchpad sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes. “You’re not bugging me, Mom.”

“It’s just that circumstances have changed. A friend of yours came to visit. I think he might need your help. And, well, he’s a little rough around the edges. Your father and I would be far more comfortable if you were here as well.”

Launchpad frowned. “A friend? Who?”

His mother paused for a long moment. “Well, that’s one of the things that’s making us a little uncomfortable. He tried to explain it to us, but… Launchpad, it’s… Launchpad.”

***

“I told him to stay away from Saint Canard!” Launchpad pelted a jacket across the room to join the steadily building pile of clothes atop the duffle bag that lay open on his bed. “You don’t think he would’ve realised I meant other places with people I care about too?”

Drake stood in Launchpad’s doorway, out of the firing line of various items of clothing. “He is you, LP. He may have missed that nuance. How many scarves do you need anyway?”

Launchpad held off hurling what was either the fourth or fifth scarf across the room, and fixed Drake with a glare.

It didn’t deter Drake in the slightest. “You chose to let him go. Behind my back. You knew you had to take responsibility for that choice.”

“Why do you think I’m packing?” Launchpad yanked on his duffle bag until the pile of clothes jostled inside. He wrestled with the zip. “I know he’s not going to hurt them on purpose or anything. But, you’re right, he’s my responsibility. I should be dealing with him, not my parents. I’m not surprised he’s done something to make them uncomfortable.”

“He makes me uncomfortable. He set you entire hanger alight, LP. I get he has issues. But, yeah, a rough as guts clone of their son rocking up on their doorstep? Your poor parents.”

“Come on. I feel bad enough already.” The zip finally cooperated.

“So, I guess we’d better finish packing and get on the road before he causes your family any trouble.”

“We?”

Drake’s gaze lowered to Launchpad’s bedroom floor. “I didn’t have your back last time he was here. If you want back up, either facing your parents or your double, Gos and I are more than happy to tag along.”

Launchpad swallowed. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“How long will it take to drive to your parents?”

“Too long. I thought we could take the Thunderquack. It’d be quicker. And it might be a good idea to have it on hand.”

It wasn’t like Launchpad hadn’t seen it coming. Drake’s eyes widened, and his paranoia ratcheted up a couple notches. “No way, LP! How are you going to explain arriving at your folks’ place in the Thunderquack? Without giving away Darkwing’s secret identity.”

Launchpad rolled his eyes. “Look, if we have to arrive in the car, I’ve got an idea. Though I’m not sure your car insurance company would like it very much.”

***

Negaduck surveyed the dark streets of Saint Canard. He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Now what havoc can I cause in this peaceful city tonight? Burn down an orphanage? Nah. Oh, an old folks’ home? Hmm.” He sat on the edge of the building’s roof and pondered.

He was in no rush. Ever since Gosalyn had left home he’d had no reason to return at any given time. She had no idea how good she’d had it; how many exceptions he’d made for her. Why did he think he lumped all her punishments on Launchpad? She was his daughter after all. His. And she had no right to leave him. At least now he didn’t have to worry he’d return home to find she’d tried to make him something pretty. He didn’t know where she’d even picked up ideas like that. Now, he was unencumbered. His own man again. Free from his ungrateful daughter.

And that idiot Launchpad. Negaduck’s lip curled up in a sneer. He’d been useless at keeping his daughter in line in his absence, and useless at digging up her whereabouts when she’d run away. It hadn’t mattered how much ‘incentive’ Negaduck had given him. He’d failed to find her. And still come crawling back, half dead with exhaustion. At least he took Negaduck’s orders seriously, if too literally. ‘Don’t rest until you find her!’ had turned out hilariously. But after he’d failed, Negaduck should never have let him back in the house. In his daughter’s absence, the other man’s presence had been nothing but a nuisance. Taunting and overworking him hadn’t made it any more bearable. Oh yeah. It had been a stroke of genius getting rid of him in the barely functioning portal.

But what would occupy him tonight? The thought of tormenting his deceased minion had made him nostalgic. Negaduck needed to mess with somebody. And not just any random Saint Canardian.

A glint of light weaving among the buildings caught his eye. The Thunderquack. It headed out towards the bay, Duckberg, and then further inland. Swinging beneath its belly was a very strange cargo.

“Now where would that dingus do-gooder Darkwing Dark be carting an entire car?” Not some fancy over-the-top superhero gadget laden vehicle either, but a regular blue sedan.

Negaduck rubbed at his beak, and considered his own life in suburbia, back in the Negaverse. He would never drive something so lame, but Darkwing’s alter ego just might. He had never considered harassing Darkwing Duck in his normal life. More than often, it was Darkwing messing with him and spoiling his fun. Negaduck had no reason to seek him out more than necessary.

Negaduck chuckled. “This may be just what I need to get back on top of my game. Guess it’s time for a ROAD TRIP!” He threw his head back and cackled into the night air.

***

Chapter 2

#launchpad #launchpad mcquack #negalaunchpad #nega launchpad #darkwing duck #darkwing #dwd #dwd91 #gosalyn #negaduck #disney ducks #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing fanic #darkwing duck fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfic

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themanicmagician · 4 years

Text

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You really shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They’d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

#reddnook #ac #animal crossing #tom nook #redd #animal crossing new horizons #my fic #sable is the best #timmy and tommy continue to be adorable

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kuramirocket · 3 years

Video

In the grand cosmos of her life's journey, Ali Guarneros Luna discovered early on, the path to the stars is not a straight shot - but a winding course that sometimes skirts peril and disappointment.

As an engineer at NASA, Luna knows what's involved in navigating space. Her engineering fingerprints are all over numerous satellites currently orbiting the earth. And as project manager for NASA's Small Satellite Program she's worked on projects aimed at deepening understanding of what lies beyond. But her trajectory was definitely not a direct line.

"I was born in Mexico. My mother was born there. Being an immigrant in this country," Luna said, "having a harsh beginning, being a woman, it’s difficult, right?"

Luna's passion for space travel touched-off when she was seven-years-old living in her native Mexico City.

Unlike others who gaze up at the stars contemplating the meaning of the universe, Luna wondered about the machines that would make the trip possible.

"I was just so captivated at seven -- that I was like 'I want to do that!'" Luna recalled. "That’s exactly what I want to do and at that age I was like, 'I’m going to be an aerospace engineer.' My upbringing was different, I want to say, from most girls because I was never told that I had to fit certain roles. I guess it was because I was the oldest one of four. I had to step up. And the two youngest ones were boys. And I was a hyperactive child. So I never had that actually being a situation where I felt that I was not good enough in math or science. Because I had to be the boss. So it just happens that in that environment, even though I was only one of two girls within a bunch of young kids, mostly boys, I was doing what I wanted to do. And it was very exciting. So I never really had that. So with me going into aerospace engineering, I think it was an easy thing.”

After the 1985 Earthquake in Mexico City, her life changed. Ali and her mother immigrated to California and settled in San Jose, CA. With only two pieces of luggage, they left everything behind, especially close friends and family.

During the anti-immigration efforts like California Proposition 187 in 1994, school was the only thing Ali was allowed to do as her mother feared deportation. Her new schedule was limited to traveling from home to school and back, with no room to do the sports she loved. So school became her outlet — it became a safe place for her to grow up, where she could continue to learn and grow.

“So within six months of working full-time, my mother lost her job. So I became the one that supported the whole family. And I did it for about five years. It was tough because being so young and understand that my mother needed my support. And my brothers, being they were looking up to me -- it's something that's heavy when you're so young. You don't understand. But when I was growing up, I always moved on the opportunities that presented in front of me, and I did what I needed to do without looking back.”

Despite being a single mom, Ali’s mother worked hard to make sure Ali had every opportunity growing up. Ali was very athletic and participated in many sports and gymnastics, track being her favorite. When she wasn’t playing sports, she was reading the encyclopedias that her mother bought for her.

“My mother loved encyclopedias. My mother had so many. I would just sit in the living room reading about space shuttles after school because I really wanted to understand what they did.”

On the cusp of adulthood, she graduated high school and went straight into the workforce. Although she loved school, she wanted to support her mother and her family. She attempted to go to community college while working full time, but the emotional stress was overwhelming and she dropped out. In the next few years, she had four children, with two who had special needs. While caring for her children at home and researching their disabilities, she realized that she needed to go back to school.

“I saw my kids who were born with special needs, and I asked myself ‘How I can help them?’… it was clear to me that I needed to go back to school. I wanted to give them a stable life.”

Back-to-school, together. After her youngest child enrolled in kindergarten, Ali enrolled at San Jose City College and transferred to San Jose State University majoring in Aerospace Engineering. In this transition from stay-at-home mom to full-time student, she became a single parent. She was a full-time student while being a full-time mom, taking care of four children.

"I was too old, I was not as young as any of the students, and I definitely was not in that mold of students," said Guarneros Luna. "I had four children. I didn't think of myself as someone who was going to contribute something special."

“I went and applied for an internship without thinking that I was ever going to come and work for NASA. I did have a bachelor's degree, but I was old. I was not a young person. The internship was only going to be for three months. Because of the internship I have to leave one job and then be here. I knew it was only for three months, but the opportunity was too much to pass up. And then I became a contractor. And then it was important to apply for a civil servant. And I became a civil servant. ”

Ali has managed ten interns, introducing them to aerospace engineering through several projects including building three satellites and researching the design for return capsules for the International Space Station. Commercializing ISS has been a difficult problem for NASA and the process to ship products back and forth from the space station has to go through large space vehicles like Falcon, which takes three to six months. Space is limited on these vehicles and launching them gets very expensive. She and her team are paving the way to redesign return capsules with small payload returns so that astronauts can get the products they need for experiments in three business days rather than months later, allowing for more research to be done more efficiently.

Here is a part of the conversation with Ali Guarneros Luna, NASA Engineer and Deputy Project Manager at NASA’s Ames Research Center in Silicon Valley:

Host: When you became a civil servant you were working on some safety aspects?

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yeah. Safety mission assurance. So when I started for this small set of projected, specifically the TechEdSat, you're going through the space station. And you're dealing with humans inside. So everything you put inside the space station, you have to be careful of what you put in there and understand what are the consequences if something goes wrong.

So I was one of the group of engineers who started that process and started learning and setting it up for the following satellites that are going to be deployed from the space station. So I ended up doing all the safety data package, which is like documentation about your hardware that you put into space where you analyze all the hazards that you present to the space station or to the astronauts and then how are you going to control them and how are you going to verify them. So I was doing that. I became so good that I ended up doing every single one from the one first one to now, right?

Host: You do it right once, then they keep coming back.

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yes.

Host: This is my job now.

Ali Guarneros Luna: Yes. I was an engineer. I was part of the engineer group like two years ago. But there was an opening in safety mission assurance. Just for me to learn, I just say, "Why not? Let me go in there." So when you're an engineer and you go to school, nobody teaches you anything about that. You learn it on the job.

Despite her unique circumstances, Ali believes the challenges she experienced guided her to make the right decisions for her future. “I am resilient, if there’s a problem, there’s more than one solution”, she states, “To overcome difficult decisions, you need to plan for them…educate yourself so that you have the tools to make a plan of action.”

Every summer, Guarneros Luna gives back to her community. She goes back to San Jose State as a professor. "It's important for them to hear from somebody who did not come from a privileged background and did not come from parents that were educated," she said. "In my mind, I have that 'semillita' of education, that I wanted to get educated. A seed planted in me to go and get an education early on." The next time you look up and think your dreams like the moon are too far to reach, Guarneros Luna wants you to remember: 238,000 miles is actually closer than you think.

As an aerospace engineer, Ali is an advocate and actively promotes Science, Technology, Engineering and Math (STEM) education. She is registered with the NASA Ames Speakers Bureau and is an active participant of this program. Ali also supports yearly programs like, Girls Scouts Go Tech, SWE Get Set, Soles Science Extravaganza, Society of Women Engineers (SWE) “WOW that is Engineering”, Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers (SHPE )“Noche de Ciencia” by providing hands-on activities and tours of the labs at SJSU. In 2012, Ali had contact with the Mexican university,, Universidad Autonoma de Baja California, UABC. She hosted a 6-week workshop at SJSU for the UABC students to build and launch an armature rocket. The success of this project was greatly broadcast in Mexico and as a result the Agencia Espacial Mexican, AEM, is interested in organizing a similar program but with the involvement of more universities.

Ali is committed to encouraging young people to pursue science, technology and engineering careers. In recognition of her achievements, the Hispanic Engineering National Achievement Awards Conference (HENAAC) named Ali Guarneros Luna as one of the 2013 Luminary Honorees. In October 2015, Ali was awarded the NASA Honor Award - Equal Employment Opportunity Medal., She also received the ISS Space Award in 2014 for her contributions to SPHERES, Modular Rapidly Manufactured Small Satellite (MRMSS), Nodes and TechEdSat Series Projects:

SPHERES: For dedication and exceptional performance in the development and operations of free flying robotic satellites inside the ISS testing autonomous satellite maneuvers.

MRMSS: For dedication and exceptional performance in research and development of modular design and manufacturing processes for spacecraft systems.

Nodes: For dedication and exceptional performance in two nanosatellites that will be deployed from ISS to demonstrate networking and advanced multi-spacecraft operations

TechEdSat Series: For exceptional performance and dedication in the development, test, launch, ISS deployment, and operation of the TechEdSat Nanosatellite spaceflight mission; launching the first NASA CubeSat from the ISS. TechEdSat-3p: For exceptional performance and dedication in the development, test, launch, ISS deployment, and operation of the TechEdSat-3p Nanosatellite “Exo-Brake” spaceflight mission; launching the first 3u NASA CubeSat from the ISS.

Ali Guarneros Luna currently works with the Office of System Safety & Mission Assurance (SS&MA) at NASA Ames Research Center. Prior to her work in the SS&MA, Ali worked in Ames’ Engineering Directorate as a technical authority for small satellite development and payloads bound for the International Space Station (ISS). In the Synchronized Position Hold, Engage, Reorient, Experimental Satellites (SPHERES) National Lab, she worked as the system and safety engineer. In the Edison Program, Ali served as the system engineering, mission and ground operations, and launch vehicle service expert for multiple CubeSat projects including the Technological and Educational Nanosatellite (TechEdSat). Ali functioned as the Deputy Project Manager, ISS expert, and launch vehicle interface for the Small Spacecraft Technology (SST) program’s Nodes project. In the Sub-Orbital Aerodynamic Re-entry EXperiments (SOAREX) Series of suborbital experiments, Ali has performed in multiple engineering roles to include design, building and testing engineer. Ali is currently the deputy project manager and co-investigator for the SOAREX 9 and SOAREX 10 missions.

She received her Bachelor of Science and Master of Science degrees in Aerospace Engineering from San Jose State University (SJSU) in 2010 and 2013, respectively. Upon completion of her undergraduate degree, Ali obtained an internship at NASA Ames with the Office of the Chief Technologist. During her time as an intern, she led and helped develop education and outreach programs for SJSU. The first program was called System of Networked Autonomous Positioning Satellites (SNAPS) followed by the TechEdSat Series. As a professional engineer, Ali has lead various projects affiliated with the ISS.

During her internship at NASA Ames, Ali supported the SNAPS project, which is an evolution of the SPHERES program which aims to demonstrate the practical applications of a network of autonomous probes. SNAPS was a test bed for guidance, navigation, and control (GNC) capabilities to enable probes to navigate without human interference or the need for external control.

As a professional engineer, Ali was mission manager for TechEdSat-1. In this capacity, Ali had managerial and oversight on all technical and programmatic aspects of the NASA Ames- SJSU project. In particular, Ali provided technical contributions to both speed the development and avoid ISS define hazard that could stop the mission, through innovative design, lab testing, and qualification methods for the TechEdSat flight hardware. She also developed and engineered the Auxiliary Lateral Inhibit (ALI) Switch for safety deployment from the ISS. Ali has co-authored technical papers for the TechEdSat structure and payload including the project plan and Safety Data Package, among others.  Her efforts enabled the project to successfully meet both ISS program and Ames Engineering Requirements. Developed, built, tested and certified for flight to the ISS in only 9 months, TechEdSat-1 was the first American CubeSat deployed from the ISS as well as being one of the first CubeSats deployed from the Station overall. TechEdSat-1 completed a life cycle with over 1000 beacon packets and 208 days of service. The TechEdSat-1 deorbited May 5th, 2013.

As a result of TechEdSat-1’s enormous success, an opportunity was presented to develop, build, test and certify TechEdSat-3P which ultimately launched to the ISS in 2013. For this mission, Ali served as a mentor to the other students and engineers as well as performed the role of safety engineer. For TechEdSat-4, launched in 2015, Ali was a radio frequency, safety and system engineer. Currently Ali is working on TES-5 as the quality and system engineer.

Ali is the deputy project manager, liaison and lead for ISS requirements for the Network and Operation Demonstration Satellites (Nodes) mission. This mission was deployed from the ISS in May 16th, 2016.

Developing new technology, Ali currently works with the SOAREX Series team. SOAREXserves as a test bed for a variety of re-entry and supporting technologies for use in automous sample return and other applications. Within the SOAREX team, Ali has multiple engineering roles from designing, building and serving as a testing engineer. She is also the deputy project manager and co-investigator for SOAREX 9 and SOAREX 10 missions. Ali supported the Orion Thermal Protecsion System (TPS) as a S&MA lead for the sensor on the Heat Shield (HS). She oversees the quality and safety of the design, build and testing of the sensor that would be installed in the HS for the next flight back in 2018.

In 2011 Ali was a member of the Plug-n-Play Mission Operations (PPMO) Workshop organizational committee at NASA Ames and helped organize the workshop held at SJSU. In 2013, Ali was on the student committee for the 10th International Planetary Probe Workshop (IPPW-10), which was held at SJSU the week of June 17th 2013.

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

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knight-ingale · 4 years

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Chapter 1, Leaving the Sun

A/N: hey, it's Knightingale! This is the first chapter of my Twilight fanfiction I started writing this year. I edited this after I posted on my laptop so hopefully it looks better. 2020 is a mess and I just wanted to write some garbage fanfiction. Let me know what you think of it!

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You looked out the open car window into the wide expanse of Arizona’s cloudless open sky, a backdrop of perfect blue against the tall buildings placed in the desert of your home state. Soon, your new home would be in Forks, Washington, which differed very much from here. The open sky in Phoenix was ever-present, only gracing the dusty ground and perpetually dying lawns a few times each year with rain an average of 33 times. Yes, you had checked. In Forks, the sky was framed by tall trees when you looked up into the shaded clouds that were nearly always hanging in the air. The rain was just as present as the greenery that covered the trees, raining nearly every day. Phoenix was where you had lived with your sister and mother for all your life. Forks is the home of your father, Charlie. You call him “Dad” to his face, of course, but you had fallen into the same habit as your older sister Bella when addressing him to others as “Charlie”. Last you had been to Forks was three summers ago when you had made your month-long summer visit to his little home in the rainy forests. Bella, your elder sister, who detested Forks, had put up enough of a fight to convince both your parents to let the two of you stay in Phoenix for the summer, bringing Charlie up instead for a mere two weeks in Cali. Now you and your sister were moving to live with him there!

You were much more excited about your leaving compared to your sister. You hadn’t been to Forks since you were 12 years old. You had often enjoyed your trips every summer, living with your dad for a month felt like a fairy tale. The large forests covered in green was like an alien world compared to Phoenix, as if you had stepped through a faery gate and was transported to another dimension. One filled with trees that held up the clouds, a place full of desaturated buildings full of cozy warmth and forgotten smiles.

You’re mother, Renne, broke you out of her daydreams with her voice,

“Bella,” she sighs to your older sister, “You don’t have to do this.” She glances at you through the rear-view mirror, “Neither of you do.” she looks back to Bella, her main concern, with her sweet, childish eyes. You can see Bella’s face tighten with nervous anxiety in the car doors outside mirror. You knew why she was anxious. As much as you loved her, Renne could be a little… absent-minded sometimes. She wasn’t dumb or dull-minded, quite the opposite, actually. Her mind was always in so many places at once; like a box of little bunny rabbits, hopping energetically from place to place. Unfortunately, this caused her to forget things sometimes. Like having a bag of marbles, but the bottom seam of the bag is ripped and marbles keep spilling out. You can catch them and try to open the pouch and put them in, but you’d still keep dropping marbles. That’s why you and Bella were around, you caught all of the marbles and put them back in the bag before she ran off to a new idea, leaving her little thoughts behind. Bella sighs herself before finally speaking,

“I want to go.” she lied. Everyone in the car knew that was a blatant lie, but she had said it so often lately, someone who didn’t know her would have believed it. Luckily for you, you had spent the last 15 years with her, you knew your sister and her habits better than she probably did. Your mom looks up to the rear-view again, but you just smile,

“I’m actually excited to go to Forks, mom!” You playfully glare at Bella as you lean towards her shoulder of the seat, “Besides, I’ll consider this making up for Bells throwing a tantrum and keeping me from Charlie’s place for three years.” Bella scoffs as she rolls her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off her face,

“You say that like I’ve forgiven you for pretending to be ‘Bloody Mary’” she jokes. You laugh. You lean back in your seat, letting the relative silence continue, the only hearing the quiet melodies on the radio and the rushing of wind as you neared your first destination, the airport.

When you had reached the airport and gotten your suitcases out of the back. Even between the two of you, there wasn’t much, only a few bags per person. Due to the near-polar-opposites of your parent’s climates, not much of your wardrobe was suitable for Forks’ usual weather forecasts. You and Bella actually had to go out and buy the warmest clothing possible manufactured in Phoenix, which wasn’t much, due to the near insufferable heat of the summer and mild heat that still hung around in the dead of winter months. Once you both had your bags out of the car, Renne turned to you both, looking equal parts loving and anxious.

“Tell Charlie I said ‘hi’” You smile,

“We will,” You both answer. Your mom grabs one of your and Bella’s hands,

“I’ll see you soon,” she insists, worry burning in her eyes, “You girls can come home whenever you want- I’ll come right back as soon as you need me!” Bella almost noticeably winces, she knows your mom really loved you both, but she was in love and wanted to spend time with your traveling step-father, Phil.

“Don’t worry about us,” She urges, “It’ll be great. I love you, Mom.” You smile and pull your mom into a hug, entrapping Bella into your cocoon of love with you.

“I love you, Mom.” you murmur into her ear.

With that, you and Bella set off into the airport’s main building, taking the path familiar to you, one that you had taken with your sister every summer until three years ago.

Going through customs was easy, the only three carry on items being a pair of cheap earbuds, an iPod mini, and a parka. The parka for the predictable forecast of rainy weather, and the iPod to keep yourself entertained during the 4-hour flight. You were delighted when no one was sitting in the third seat in your row, but it was only to be expected. There weren’t many people coming from the blistering heat of Phoenix willingly leaving for the downcast rain puddle that is Forks, Washington.

Once the plane had landed, you and Bella stepped out into the rainy sky of Port Angeles. Charlie, your father was waiting for you both in the police cruiser, like he had every year you visited before. Charlie, being the Chief of Police in town, only drove the cruiser, instead of getting his own car. It made sense to you, why buy another of something you already have that works perfectly? Bella however did not like the idea of being driven around in it. Something Bella had adamantly refused to endure was riding to school in the cop car, “Nothing slows down traffic like a cop,” she complained. Because of this, she was hellbent on buying her own vehicle to drive to school in, regardless of her smaller-than-desired budget.

Charlie welcomed you both as you boarded off of the plane, well, Bella more stumbled. That’s why you had come off first, grabbing her arm to keep her from having a personal encounter with the asphalt landing beneath you. Charlie awkwardly hugged you both.

“It’s good to see you girls,” he says smiling at you both as he pulls away. “You haven’t changed much, Bells. Y/n, you’ve grown taller, kiddo!” he laughs, “How’s Renee?”

“Mom’s fine, It’s good to see you too, Dad.” Bella answers. Of course, she doesn’t call him Charlie to his face. You smile,

“Mom says ‘Hi’” Charlie nods and helps you both with your luggage. All of Bella’s things fit into the trunk, as well as most of your own, you only needed to put your biggest case of clothing with you in the back. As soon as you all strap into the cruiser, Charlie makes an announcement,

“I found a good car for the two of you, really cheap.” A car?

“What kind of car?” Bella asks suspiciously.

“Well, it’s a truck actually, a Chevy.” Oh, a truck. Maybe then it’d be more durable. God knows you’d need it. You didn’t have your license yet, so Bella was the only option to get you to school. If you didn’t want to be brought to school behind the separation grate of a cop car, that is.

“Where did you find it?” Bella asks.

“Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?” La Push was the little Native-American reservation down at the coast if you remembered right. Billy, Billy… You let out a little “oh!” before Bella can respond.

“He was that guy we’d go fishing with, right?” You remembered him faintly. He lived on the reservation with two, no, three kids. You remembered two sisters, twins, and a little boy. Man, you hadn’t thought about them in years! Of course, that couldn’t be helped, since Bella treated Forks liked it was cursed with the plague for years, enough to stop your summerly visits.

“Yup, that’s him,” your dad confirms, “He’s in a wheelchair now, so he can’t drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap.” Bella, ever suspicious of this vehicle, prods further,

“What year is it?” You can see Charlie make a slight face at Bella’s question,

“Well… Billy’s done some work to the engine- it’s only a few years old really,” he tries vainly.

“When did he buy it?” Bella continues.

“He bought it in 1984, I think.”

“Did he buy it new?” Charlie sighs at the question,

“Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties- or late fifties, at the earliest,” he admits. Bella sigh herself,

“Ch- Dad,” she starts, “Neither Y/N or I know anything about cars! We wouldn’t be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I can��t really afford a mechanic-” she rambles anxiously before Charlie stops her,

“Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don’t build them like that anymore.” Bella stews in her thoughts for a moment, you break the silence,

“I mean, if anything, I’m more than happy to get to school in something other than the back of a cop car,” you laugh easily, “I mean, can you imagine, coming to school on the first day in the back of the Chief’s cruiser like a criminal? Talk about a first impression!” Charlie is able to laugh at your light humor with you before Bella asks another question,

“How cheap is… cheap?” she asks, quieting your laughter quickly.

“Well, girls, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift.” you can see Charlie peek over at Bella before glancing at you through the rear-view hopefully. Already… wow, was the truck free?

“You didn’t have to do that, Dad, I was going to buy us a car myself,” Bella says. Charlie looks straight ahead at the road before answering, obviously trying to get his emotions out without his usual awkwardness.

“I don’t mind. I want you to be happy here.” His last sentence was obviously more pointed at your sister than you. She had never really hidden her… distaste for Forks. Charlie seemed rather pleased the two of you had willingly decided to come live with him for a more permanent amount of time.

“That’s really nice Dad,” Bella says, looking straight out the front window, just like your dad. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” You smile at the two in front of you,

“Thanks, Dad!” He makes a gruff sound of affirmation, slightly awkward, but mostly pleased at your positive reaction,

“Well, now, you’re welcome.” You settled against the window and car door and pop your earbuds in their place as you press play on your iPod. You look out through a rain covered window, alternating between watching the terrain run behind you and focusing on the water droplets streaking across the glass, seeing which ones met the bottom first.

Eventually, you made it home. You recognized the curve of the road, seeing a peek of the washed-out color of the white house and dark roof through the brilliant green of the trees. What was the most eye-catching about the scene was the contrasting red truck in the driveway. Bella hopped out of the front with almost excited energy.

“Wow Dad,” she exclaims slightly louder than her usual, quiet volume, “I love it! Thanks!” You climbed out of the back, pausing your music and stuffing the earbuds into your pocket as you made your way beside your sister. Despite being the complementary color of green, the washed-out fade of the red paint made the truck look perfect in the surrounding environment. It was big and old, but it was sturdy looking, like a little tank. This was definitely one of the trucks that could get in a collision and crush the opposing vehicle like an empty soda can. At least if Bella managed to crash the two of you, you’d probably live!

Charlie calls you both to the back of the truck after accepting your thanks and words of appreciation as best as he could, helping you both unpack your luggage from the cruiser. It only took one trip. Bella carried her luggage upstairs with your dad’s help, and you dragged your own into your room on the main floor of the house.

Originally, you and Bella had shared the nursery, but around 11 years old, the two of you convinced (or complained, depends on who you ask) your dad to let you and Bella have separate rooms. Your little room was wedged between the stairs and the living room, the smallest room in the house. It wasn’t bad though. The walls were painted navy blue with old glow in the dark stars stuck all over the popcorn ceiling and tops of the walls. You still had the white garlands of Christmas lights tacked up the to corners of your ceilings, and the lace curtains still hung over the window. Your window faced the back of the house directly into the forest behind. There was enough room for your twin-sized bed and a small desk and bookshelf shoved into one corner, your dresser snug in a corner on one side of your bed, and nightstand on the other. There was an old computer upstairs in Bella’s room, the nursery. Your mom had all but demanded it be there for easy communication. You missed her already.

You didn’t set to really putting your room together, other than putting clothes in drawers and hanging what little you had in the closet. You decided you’d unpack all personal items later, but dug out your backpack. A white canvas backpack with two bottle pockets on the sides and a smaller, extra on the front. You had doodled on it with markers last year, but it hadn’t fallen apart yet so you had been using it this year too. Your now emptied folders and binders took up space in the main pocket; your pencil case and an extra pencil case full of period products housed in the smaller one. Your backpack was set. You decide on what to wear for tomorrow, familiarizing yourself with your new set up in the process. By the time you had busied yourself with the small tasks you could, the sun had fully set behind the cover of clouds.

You made your way upstairs to your sister’s room, peaking your head through the door. Bella had put on her pajamas and was sitting in bed, gazing out into the night. In the low light of the lamp she had on, you could see she wasn’t feeling great about tomorrow.

“Hey Bells,” you call softly. She looks over to you, not bothering to change her expression. She already learned she couldn’t hide how she felt around you, so she stopped trying quite a while ago. “Not excited for tomorrow, huh?” You slide into the room fully, gently closing the door behind you. She sighs as you set down across from her.

“Not really.” She admits. “Forks Highs-school only has three hundred and fifty-seven students,”

“Now fifty-eight,” you interject. She nods and closes her eyes,

“Exactly. Everyone around here has grown up together- their grandparents were toddlers together! We’re the new girls from the big city-”

“A curiosity,” you agree tiredly,

“A freak,” she grumbles pessimistically. “I mean, we don’t look how girls from Phoenix should, I know I don’t. I should be tan, sporty, blonde- a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps- everything people think about when they think of living in the valley of the sun!”

“You know neither of us should ever be let in a quarter-mile vicinity of a volleyball, first of all-” you joke, “and second, I don’t think being sporty or tan would really help anyway. If Phoenix is the ‘valley of the sun’, then Forks in “the valley of rain clouds’. I don’t think a lot of the other white people here are going to be very tan.” Bella manages a genuine, albeit small, laugh. “I don’t think we’d fit in anywhere, Bells, not unless we find people like us.” She sighs,

“Other people with glitches in their brains.” You shrug,

“I don’t think its a glitch. We’re just wired differently. Besides, our brains are literally meat-jello full of electricity, some of them are bound to work a little strange, right?” She laughs, louder this time. You give her a side hug before standing up. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,”’ Bella says un-enthusiastically. You exit the room and call down the short hallway to Charlie’s room,

“Night, Dad!” He pokes his head out of the door a moment after,

“Night honey, see you in the morning.” He goes back to his room and closes the door. You trail your way down the stairs and to your room before crawling under the blankets. You were going to need your sleep for tomorrow. After all, you were starting your first day at a new school. Forks High, now at a population of 359.

#jacob black x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #x reader #/reader #I don't know how to write #bad formatring I'm on mobile

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pleasantwizardphilosopher · 3 years

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This is the third chapter of my current fic, please let me know your thoughts!!

The news are going insane, who is this anonymous hero? People cannot even decide on her features, some say she has brown hair, some say she’s blonde, others claim she’s redheaded (?). Not even those who were in the attacked building, which was afterwards closed by the FBI for further investigation; could give any more information aside than the fact that she was a woman, mid-twenties (or was it thirties?), with similar powers to those displayed by Superman, no one saw her face up close though, to preoccupied with surviving and helping others.

One bold reporter, who was also in said building, decided to give her a name, and so, not even twelve hours after that tragic event that almost took 120 people’s lives, “Supergirl” was everything the news outlets were talking about. Blowing off in a futile desperate attempt to find out whether she was another Kryptonian or a super-powered alien from a different planet, under the knowledge that Earth, and particularly National City, is the home of several misplaced aliens from throughout the galaxy. There were lots of testimonies from people who supposedly saw her that night, saying Rao knows what, and others who actually got to see her in action, those being a little more reserved on their testimonies, making thigs a lot more confusing.

Kara squeaks in excitement for the nth time this day, she cannot even focus on the task at hand as she molders a few wires together, the grounding smell of melted tin and burnt plastic filling the room; swaying her hips enthusiastically to the upbeat pop music playing loudly in her lab, giving a few tiny jumps of excitement every now and then. The always-present humming of several industrial-level refrigerators and a constant typing and beeping coming from the room above along with the music drown the noises of the city, a few miles away. She is in a towering scary-looking warehouse, one that she and Winn bought together in order to make it the official Zor-El Technologies headquarters, there are three floors, mostly empty since it’s only the two of them and Roland, the janitor who comes in once a week to clean every preposterous failed experiment and organize a little, always handling their devices carefully; it has a basement, where they keep their new inventions and innovations locked down in a vault, the ground floor where they keep most of their tools and utensils, where Kara is currently working in her own projects, the first floor, where Winn has his state-of-the-art, kind of futuristic-looking super computer console and the third one, which is empty. The warehouse is provided with huge floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing sunlight to stream freely all day long, much to Kara’s delight, and being this the factor that tipped the scales when deciding where to buy, at least for her.

She is so enraptured in her own gleefulness that she doesn’t hear Winn come in (probably to consult something with her about his current software design), and everything seems to move in slow motion, for Kara it really does. She is singing the chorus at the top of her lungs while remembering how good it felt to save so many people, and so she twirls giving a small jump, but instead of landing on her feet immediately, she hovers a few inches above the floor, and is at that exact moment when Winn bursts through the door, literally catching the woman mid-air.

They stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, Kara still hovering above the floor, not even breathing, afraid to scare her closest friend (Alex doesn’t count). Winn just stares blankly at her, jaw dropping in a way that would be comic haven’t he caught his best friend fucking flying. Kara lands softly and quietly moves forward to where Winn is still standing jaw-slacked, and she carefully places a warm comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to measure his reaction. But when she looks into his eyes all she sees is glee and curiosity, maybe even a hint of smugness. They break into a fit of laughter, Winn laughing so hard for not catching the clues that tears prickle his eyes. And Kara is filled with warmth and familial love for this man who has become so much to her. After all, they have been together since high school, which is quite some time to get to know someone.

After that, Winn is the best partner in…law enforcement (?). The computer geek is the best ally she could’ve asked for and the most supportive friend ever. He designs a suit for her, one that bears her House crest, because even after all her parents did, she can still proudly display the Zor-El name and family crest and help people, maybe even work to make up for their crimes and mistakes; and the characteristic red and blue that her cousin also sports, the red skirt was definitely a no go (Rao no), instead, she goes for pants and knee-high red boots, with a golden trimmed belt at her waist. Starting off as a superhero proved to be way harder than she had expected.

The first time she goes out to stop a bank robbery, she collides like a missile with the vault’s doors (Shoot!), ripping them from their hinges. The second time she tries to stop a fire, she mistakenly freezes the whole block’s heating pipes (Rao!). However, she never gives up and after a very heated conversation with Alex, she manages to convince her to let her help, to be the beacon of hope she was always meant to be and to protect Earth and its citizens, human and aliens alike. Alex throws a chair, or two, towards the wall in frustration, unable to convince Kara to stop this nonsense and stop risking her life (the irony Special Agent Danvers). And then, hazel eyes lock with ocean blue ones Kara sees fear in brown eyes, and she understands, she really does, but Alex cannot ask her to keep such important part of herself hidden anymore, not when she could be out there, helping, she is a super-powered Kryptonian after all. The certainty and compassion the agent sees in cerulean blue eyes isn’t something she’ll ever stand in the way of. Kara is her sister after all, and even though she fears for her, she’ll always be by her side, supporting her. This starts a new facet into their relationship, as Alex becomes part of her Super-task force (rename pending), being an FBI agent, she has access to a lot of information and having the Girl of Steel by their side, several agents’ lives could be spared.

After more than a year of fighting crime, human and aliens equally (she’ll never understand why aliens attack the species whose planet is giving them refuge), she has come to a certain balance between the cheery, sweet looking and clumsy Kara Danvers and her alter-ego, strong-looking and inspiring, Supergirl, taking more distance from projects at Zor-El Technologies and dedicating more and more time to saving people and helping wherever she can. It isn’t as fulfilling as she thought it’d be, it’s almost empty the way she has come to have to decide between helping people one way or another. She does love science after all and helping the little citizen as well.

She sighs. She has been getting less and less time in her beloved lab and it’s finally taking a toll on her cheery attitude and sunny personality. Grumbling a little she keeps reading the opinion column in the newspaper she’s holding “Brilliant, gorgeous and…sociopath? The last of the Luthors” the title reads, is an extremely extensive, and horribly written piece, she must say, about Lena Luthor and how “aside from appearances she’s just as insane as the rest of her twisted family”; the piece is so biased that the Kryptonian is not sure how someone was allowed to publish that, and is extremely long, taking almost three whole pages. She hasn’t meet the raven-haired genius in person and hasn’t actually bothered to look her up, it feels like a huge invasion to her thin and almost non-existent, privacy; she knows what the general public does, she doesn’t live under a rock for Rao’s sake, her brother went insane and as such she had to take over the company, now renamed L-Corp, and has been working restlessly to drift it away from weapons manufacturing and turning it into a force for good with science and engineering, very similar, in a way, to what Zor-El Technologies aims for. She is so mad at whoever wrote this …crap, that she entirely misses the small sidenote that reads “Third alien assassination this week, hate or patriotism?”.

It’s just the beginning of August, she’s perched in a bench right in front of National City’s Central Park, next to a cafeteria that she absolutely loves, the wind is blowing softly and is quite chilly, announcing the upcoming winter, claiming it to be freezing cold. The sky is cloudy, grey clouds filling it with very little sunrays being filtered through them; there are huge mountains of orange and brown-ish leaves scattered across the sidewalk, some kids are playing with them, throwing them at each other and breaking into fits of giggles, the street is filled with their laughs, the soft smell of recently baked bread, upcoming rain, and hot coffee. The trees are almost bare now and make low whistling noises when the wind rushes through them, shaking violently whatever leaves they have left to the ground and lifting the ones that have already fallen into spirals in the air. Kara is tucked into a fluffy light brown sweater and ripped jeans, glasses perched on her nose and hair up in a tight ponytail as she keeps skimming through the article. Her heart breaks every single time she encounters pieces like this one about the green-eyed genius, it’s absolutely unfair judging someone based on their family’s crimes instead of measuring them on their own merits, that’s what she believes in after all, what she was taught those many years ago in her home world, and after following up-close every article the Irish woman has written for scientific Journals, she’s fairly certain that the Luthor is nowhere near to how the papers and the press paint her to be, she’d have to meet her to be sure but there is no doubt in her mind about it.

She stands to leave, folding the latest version of the Daily Planet and tucking it into one of her jeans back pockets, just then a strong gush of wind comes from apparently nowhere and ruffles her hair in her face and almost blowing the paper from her hand, making her stop to put everything back into place. While taking her hair and awoken leaves out of her face, as if drawn to a magnet her eyes fixate on someone standing just by the main entrance of the park, across the street from her. She is a little shorter than herself, she guesses, is wearing sleek black boots, tight black jeans, and a very soft-looking red sweater under a leather jacket, the woman’s hair is jet black and falls in soft waves over her shoulders. Her lungs seem to forget how to work as she just stands there, jaw-slaked staring at the woman, she’s too far away from Kara for her to make out her factions precisely but she’s certain that the woman is gorgeous. Her body feels heavy and slacked as if something was pinning her into her spot, or most accurately someone, the blonde woman across the street to be precise, Lena doesn’t know what’s come over her, but she’s certain that whomever that may be, she wants to get to know her, there is just something in her posture that pulls her in, as if the woman emanated warmth that Lena feels drawn to like a moth to a flame, furthermore, she is like a ray of sunshine, with her soft-looking, blond mane, her outfit screams soft, and it hits something deep within the CEO.

They don’t know how long they stay there, fixatedly staring at each other, the world seemingly vanishes, brown and orange leaves floating throughout the space between them, neither seems to be able to breathe or even blink. Lena is too scared someone might have recognized her to move a single muscle, at least that’s what she tells herself, but is actually the soft, tender, pull to her heart that keeps her there, feeling like the permanent hole in her heart has finally been filled, she’s certain that the blonde can feel it as well. Kara has never felt like this in her whole life, she had even started to believe that she wasn’t capable of such feelings, having heard every cheesy pop song about love at first sight it had seemed quite ridiculous to be honest, but she’d be lying to herself if she said that she doesn’t feel absurdly drawn to the woman. Out of nowhere, a car rushes past, lifting curtains of leaves in its wake, while passing near the blonde a ball comes rolling into the road from a pile of leaves, where the kids were still playing and right behind it, a young boy no older than 6, just jumping in the way of the car; between the leaves the driver mustn’t have seen him since they don’t stop; fortunately Kara is just a few paces away and manages to grab the child by his armpits and lift him, pulling him out of the way and back to safety. When she turns around to look at the woman again, she is no longer there, vanished between orange streaks, it all feels cold and empty now for the Kryptonian, the same way one feels after waking from a beautiful dream.

Kara shakes her head, what was she thinking? With a light giggle and after receiving several ‘thank you’ from the child’s mother, she turns around to leave, only to almost run over Nia and Brainy, her boyfriend, who, miraculously, had apparently just materialized behind her. She and Winn met Brainy at a trade fair, about six months ago; he had approached their stand and started asking questions, very precise and specific ones, the ones that only someone with wide knowledge of the subject would be able to do; and making suggestions here and there, Winn following suit to add his own input to the conversation. Brainy was a Computer Engineer with a double degree in Electronics, and his mind rivaled Winn’s, he even challenged him, that’s how he was added to the team. He and Winn became a whole new department in Zor-El Technologies. They designed software, firewalls and other products meant to protect devices from outside infiltration and whenever Kara worked on a techier device, they'd provide its software and failsafe; he sometimes worked on side projects mostly theorizing and experimenting with chemical compounds. It worked out like a charm, they complemented each other like a well-oiled machine, allowing both computer geeks to spend more time in their own computer and AI innovations and inventions rather than just supporting Kara with other projects more engineering-like.

Later on, he introduced them to Nia, an Actuarial Science undergrad, who decidedly loved their work, having read thoroughly about their previous projects and future launches; and joined to take care of Zor-El Tech. finances, because honestly, although Kara and Winn where great minds, finances weren’t their strongest suit, pun intended. The whole thing contributing to Kara being able to take on a lower workload, allowing her to spend more time saving people and having to worry less about small perks of the business, without raising suspicious. Around three months ago, however, Kara realized that Nia had powers, after falling asleep at work and having woken up startled and stammering something about an imminent threat to a Kryptonian, a week later, Lex had stroke, declaring war on Superman and turned the sky red to try and take him down with a Lexosuit of his own design, trapping her sister in the cross-fire. After that, the whole team decided to leave secrets aside and the four of them started fighting crime together, with Nia and Kara on the field and Winn and Brainy being their eyes and ears, both of them brilliant strategists.

Nia is looking at her with a knowing smile, as if she had been witness to the staring contest between the Kryptonian and the unknown woman, she truly hopped she hadn’t, fortunately for her Brainy was as oblivious as always and so she decided to start a conversation with him. It was easy talking to Brainy; he didn’t have many issues with emotions, he did, well, he kind of just didn’t understand them and hence didn’t know what to do about them; Kara’s mind is barely into the conversation as her thoughts keep drifting to the beautiful woman who had managed to make her feel dizzy and giddy without even being within reach, without Kara actually being able to get her face and figure entirely, damn lead-lined glasses. She hopes their paths cross once more, although she is not certain how that is going to happen when she didn’t even get to see her face. She lets out a soft groan of frustration. Kara has been feeling particularly irritable recently, since she hadn’t really had time to work on her projects, and after this quite frustrating encounter she is at the brink of blowing up.

She hates the feeling, so, as soon as they hit Zor-El headquarters she heads to her journal, the one she keeps on the bottom drawer of her lab’s desk, she is always filling it with unfinished or half-baked ideas, scrolling through it, deciphering her doodles and notes, analyzing every idea she has ever written in it. She has made up her mind, she is going to do something big, one of her greatest projects so far, she knows Zor-El has kept launching projects, but she hasn’t really been involved in them, or truly invested, having to save the world, every now and then. This would be her project, something for her to focus on entirely, to take the most advantage or her brain and to challenge herself, she knows the others would understand and give her space.

The Girl of Steels slams her journal in her lab table with a little triumphant ‘aha!’ immediately wincing after seeing how the stainless-steel table bended underneath her strength. She should definitely get nth metal benches from now on, note to self. The journal is open on a page that talks about solar panels, it’s an idea that has been nagging her for some months now, it makes a lot of sense, her own cells are super-charged batteries, if she could figure out exactly the way they metabolize solar radiation into energy, those solar panels would be the best ones on the market. That is, assuming she can build the circuitry, she is well-versed on engineering, but this is way out of her league, the solar cells culture would be the easy part, she already has well-cemented physics and alien biology knowledge to do so, even without actually growing some of her own cells (she can ask Alex to take a tissue sample to analyze); and the hardest would be the software, she could totally ask Winn and Brainy’s help for it, but the circuitry, neither of them could build it from scratch, or maybe they could, but it would require a lot more time and money that the one they currently have for out-of-the-blue prototypes; and taking a pre-designed one from the currently available on the market wouldn’t be powerful enough for mechanism.

She starts biting her nail and pacing around her lab. There must be a way for her to manage this, not only would it be an amazing project for the company to make it into the front pages, but it would also greatly improve the lives of millions, especially those in sun-filled countries, such as African countries and Central America countries. She feels like this is an old problem and the solution is just there at the back of her mind, but refusing to be caught, then, out of nowhere, she gets it, it’s so clear know that she can literally watch a light bulb light in her head. Lena Luthor, the heiress to the Luthor empire has a whole department dedicated to sustainable energies, moreover, they are currently working on improved solar panels and renewable energies, this could totally work, a partnership with a high-standard company such as L-Corp would prove to be good for the development of Zor-El Technologies and if this project ended appropriately, L-Corp would also benefit from it.

One thing she knows for sure: she needs a good proposal, excellent in fact, so she throws herself on the nearest chair and starts typing her proposal into a document, she is using her superspeed leading her to finish it soon enough, deciding to take some time to go grab a doughnut, giving her computer time to buffer and finish the ordeal, Winn would definitely call this a “computer onslaught”. While she’s munching on her chocolate and strawberry sprinkles doughnut a thought crosses her mind, it would be a good idea to notify the whole crew, the Superfriends as Winn call themselves. Once gathered she gives a very inspiring pep-talk about how this project is going to bring Zor-El Technologies into the spotlight for good, and maybe even keep them there, she wants to do this for herself, almost entirely, she won’t ever refuse help as she was taught that they were stronger together, but she wanted to do most of the work herself, having being deprived of working on scientific projects for so long, she needed this. Hence, they agree on supporting her, taking off her back as much Supergirl duties as possible, Dreamer, Nia to friends, would take her place on the street and she’d only be called if the emergency needed her particular set of abilities, aka brute force and invulnerability. They also agree on providing the Kryptonian with moral support, advice and food, yesss food!, and everything seems to be set. Now only the hard part is missing, arrange a meeting with L-Corp to present her idea.

That’s when it hits her, she has to present her idea at L-Corp (!!) which means, she has to talk directly to the CEO aka the one and only Lena Luthor *full blown panic. It has to be spotless; she know for sure that the woman will be attracted to the idea, however, she hasn’t really met her and is not entirely sure how stern or demanding she may be. Sitting again in front of her computer, the blonde starts proofreading her proposal, adding a few details here and there, like the fact that the panels are going to be improved by platinum oxide nanoparticles, maybe a core-shell with iridium, she’s not entirely sure about that last part, she has to do some research to see which nanoparticles oscillate most under solar radiation; and that step of the project is going to lay entirely on her court, since she’s going to base her whole research on the way her cells work and that’s definitely something private, secret even.

The youngest Danvers is sitting outside the office of The Lena Luthor, her leg keeps bouncing unstoppably, as her nerves are quite taking the best of her, she shouldn’t be nervous, this isn’t the first time they are turning towards a bigger company for sponsorship, nor the first time she has been face-to-face with an important person, but there is something different about asking for sponsorship directly to the head of one of the biggest consortiums of the country, who also happens to be the sister of a maniac who tried to kill your cousin and who also is the woman whose career you have been following closely for five years, glup. When the double doors open and her assistant, Jess, signals her to get in, she is not at all sure what to expect, partly because of her nerves, she is going in auto-drive, and partly because, coming to think of it, she has never actually heard anything about the raven-genius from someone who has directly dealt with her and it’s kind of worrying. She is not sure whether to expect a cold-blooded, cocky-demeanor and over-the-top CEO or a kind, friendly, but straight-forward one.

When she finally gets over herself and manages to drag her feet into the office, she almost drops herself to the floor. The first thing she notices is the pristine-white decoration that prevails in the office, the floor-to-ceiling windows give it a very open-space, clean appearance. The second thing she notices is the smell, it smells like coffee, expensive perfume and …scotch (?). The third thing, and the one almost sends the Girl of Steel barreling out of the office is the CEO, Kara is absolutely not expecting, nor ready for, a stunning, raven-haired, Irish beauty that she has seen previously, more specifically, a month ago, outside National City’s Central Park, she freezes. What Kara doesn’t know is that Lena isn’t expecting her either, the blonde woman who stole her breath a month ago, the CEO is not used to feeling giddy, like she is now, she finds herself blushing slightly and feeling a little silly, what are you Luthor a love-struck teenager? Pull yourself together! The idea just randomly pops into her head and makes her blush a little harder, she certainly feels like one, surrounded by the scent of vanilla and flowers that irradiates from the other woman, seeping into her like the soft warmness of hot cocoa during a cold snowy winter. She is beautiful, with those cerulean bright blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin, the navy-blue tailored suit and light blue button up definitely fits her. In her eyes, she can see, and feel, her kindness, she is certain that this woman has the biggest heart she has ever encountered, blue, like the ocean, a sight she would gladly get lost into, but underneath all that, there is something else, which terrifies and captures her, Lena suddenly finds herself wishing to know all about this Kara Danvers.

The Maiden of Might certainly cannot believe that all it took for her to be and absolute mess, aside from her usual clumsy-self, is a set of forest-green eyes paired with crimson red lipstick, a black pencil skirt and emerald-green blouse, which certainly seems to make her eyes pop out more. But what really drags her in are precisely those eyes, filled with curiosity and amusement, maybe a little bit of fear and so so much hurt, like open wounds that have never healed, buried just under the public eye, to protect herself. Whereas she first thought that Lena was unbreakable with her power pose and 7-inch Luboutins, now she isn’t that certain. Her aura yells “power” and “control”, but the almost invisible quirk of her brow says fear, her pose, if you look carefully enough seems stiff, carved into her through punishment and humiliation; her hands are holding a pen, innocently, however, being the observant hero is, she is capable of recognize the soft movements of her wrist as if the raven-haired woman wanted to fidget but were refraining from it.

For a moment neither of them move, too absorbed in the sight in front of them. Then, as if realizing she was staring, Lena shakes her head, returning to the real world and leading the blonde woman to her desk, so they may discuss the matter at hand. When the Kryptonian takes a second too long to move, her crimson lips move upwards into a smirk, and oh boy is she lost. Mentally slapping herself, Kara manages to move towards the modern white desk and take out her proposal, praying to Rao not to stumble over her words while the genius woman is staring intently into her eyes like that. She feels her palms sweat, she didn’t even know that could happen, but manages to catch herself and go through the proposal with the CEO. Lena is stunned to say the least, her department has been endlessly and fruitlessly trying to improve solar panels effectivity for several months now, a huge crew of the most recognized scientist in their fields have gotten nowhere, and out of the mist, Kara, on behalf of Zor-El Technologies, which she has heard about but very little; comes forward with not only the most complete proposal, but the design is already planned, the system and functioning have been researched and started to be developed. She has crossed paths with extremely bright people, studying at the best universities and all that, but this, this is entirely different, unexpected and is directly poking into her curiosity.

After Kara has finished her proposal, Lena decides to negotiate a little with regards on how this joint project is going to work, she is curious by nature who can blame her. For starters, L-Corp is not going to provide a team, she herself is going to work on the project, it’s been a while since she has had the opportunity to be hands on with a project with the move and rebrand of the company, however this is the opportunity she unknowingly has been waiting for and she is going to take it, she has a lot of experience in bioengineering and nanotechnology after all, and several ground-breaking discoveries in those areas have been hers. Albeit Kara was certainly not expecting the green-eyed woman to propose working herself directly into the project she cannot say that she isn’t pleased with the idea, heck, she has been wanting to work alongside the genius ever since she first heard of her. A contract is printed, were both parties agree on working together and the details of the launch and profits for each company are thoroughly detailed. The main change into the proposal it’s that Winn and Brainy are not going to be the ones designing the software but Lena, who is also going to work, along with Kara, on the circuitry and Kara herself will help design the absorption and conversion system, a dual design based on nanoparticles.

Once all the details are polished and both women have agreed to the terms and signed, they stand up to shake hands and close the deal. What neither of them is expecting is the soft buzz, current-like, that goes through their hands when they touch, while it is electrifying, it is not unpleasant, a soft tingle that goes from the tips of their fingers all the way to the base of their spines, thrumming alive every nerve termination. If they linger a little, holding hands and smiling dumbly at each other, coffee and flowers mixing in the air between them, no one can blame them. Lena lets go first, a little breathless, as if her soul had just went for a ride outside her body, fingers still tingling, she has to will herself to not rub her hand on her skirt in an attempt to make it stop. She lifts her gaze from where they were shaking hands and fixates her eyes into ocean blue ones, seemingly searching for something into her jade-green ones. She doesn’t know what this is, neither does Kara for that matter, but she doesn’t mind, staring into ice-blue, strong and confident, she sees power and strength, and somehow, she knows that those shoulders hold the weight of the world.

When Kara gets out of the office that day, she wonders what the future may hold for both of them, while the project is definitely going to revolutionize green energy production, she is certain, she is willing to allow her mind wander into endless possibilities for the both of them, she has been struck dumb twice by the CEO, and that is not of common occurrence, as Kryptonian, and from the House of El nonetheless, she is not easily flustered or left speechless, less more breathless, but the stunning woman behind those doors has managed somehow. And she is nothing short of a scientist after all, hence, she will take her time to find out the meaning of this. Smiling happily to herself, she leaves the building, with a slight bounce to her step, after all, this project will change the future of Zor-El Technologies. What neither of them know is that it will also change both their futures and perceptions.

#supercorp #lena luthor #karlena #supergirl #i wrote this on a whim #i am supercorp trash #kara danvers #They're a mess #Kind of soulmates #We're starting off #Please be nice #I love reading your comments

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